Time Will Tell
by softer
Summary: A collab piece between Phalangesbyfive and Softer. It's time's like these...Rating for chapter 13
1. Losing Track of Time

**Trouble with FF- I hope this works and you can read the story now...**

**A.N.: this is going to be my first ever collab piece- the plan is that phalangesbyfive (from here on out referred to as Em or Emily) and I are going to switch off from chapter to chapter. The AN's at the beginning of each chapter will tell you who is writing it, and will probably contain some dirty reference to the other (beside the point, but fair warning was in order). I (softer) will begin this little story with chapter one.**

**Chapter One: Losing Track of Time**

**NOTE- this is so NOT a song fic. I just used the lyrics to help paint the picture. It's not going to be a regular thing or anything like that. Purely a tool used at my disposal.  
Yeahyeah.  
On with it, she says.**

_I watch the doorway  
quietly wait for you  
this is a nightmare  
I want to date you_

IO Echo blasted in her ears and it was all she could hear as she moved, almost unable to feel. Her fists flew out with precision, slamming into the hard bag, sending it flying. The sheer force she mustered up comes from a mixture of exhaustion she refused to give into and frustration she'd learned to channel. It all flows out of her, like ink out of a pen; an outlet. That poor uppercut bag- it had taken more shit from her than any other. She could lose herself in the rhythm- ever since her first training lesson she was hooked. The body opponent bag was great for realism, and the speedball was great for warming up, but the heavy uppercut- that really got her adrenalin up. No other feeling compared. She envisioned the stress draining out of her with every heavy hit, the bag swinging from the chain it was suspended by perilously close to her.

_I want to feel you  
I've got to shake you off  
I want to hate you._

She dodged it expertly before swinging her left arm around in a swift uppercut, followed by a string of right-lefts, flying so fast she lost count of them. It's right then as the bag once again rebounds her way that the sheer exhaustion hits her harder than the bag ever could, and instead of beating it with another round of vicious punches she grabs the swinging bag, stilling it. She rests her forehead on the bag, the polyester surprisingly cool to the touch.

Inhale.  
Exhale.  
Inhale.  
Exhale.

Her breath was shallow and labored as she struggled to catch it, eyes clenched shut as she focused on the sound of the music flooding her ears, ignoring the burning sensation her muscles endure.

_I gotta get out of here gotta get out yeah  
I gotta get out of here gotta get out  
Cause I'm falling faster  
Falling faster_

She can feel the bass drumming through her body, generating the energy she can't seem to, her heart rate still racing as the guitars pick up and it's like a tight coil being wound inside of her. No knots, no kinks in the wire, just energy and emotion and electricity.

Inhale.  
Exhale.  
Inhale.

It's like she has to remind herself to do it.

And then she's calm again. The song reaches its last crescendo and silence takes over, reminding her of her surroundings. When she regained faith in the muscles in her legs, she parted from the bag she clung to, unraveling the cloth wraps around her hands as she made her way to the locker room. She collapsed onto the bench before her locker, pulling one of the white earphones from her ears and letting it dangle on her chest. She grabbed a towel, using it to wipe the perspiration from her forehead and neck, taking another moment to rest her head against her hand. She shrugged off the heavy feeling and reached towards the locker, and it's then she notices- the lock is undone.

Not broken, no.  
It was perfectly intact.

It just hung there from the silver metal hook, open.  
And she did _not _leave it that way.

She wouldn't have locked it if she was at the precinct, but she was using her apartment building's gym, and she didn't even want to _think _of the creepy crawlers that could waltz in there.

She fingered the lock carefully, standing to get a better view, before un-hooking the lock and opening the metal door, warily. She grabbed her clothes out, counting the individual articles.

Gym Bag: check.  
Pants: check.  
Shirt: check.  
Shoes: check.  
Socks: check.

Then she reached her arm into the darker depths of the small locker, where she stowed the more important stuff.

Purse: check.  
Cell Phone: check.  
Gun and badge: check and check.

Her cash was there, her mother's ring was untouched- and that's when she realized.

Where was the watch?

She began shuffling frantically through her belongings, searching desperately for it, hoping that for some reason she had missed it the first time. No such luck.

"Shit," she mutters. It feels good to say it. Somehow the expletive makes her feel a little better. "Shit." This time she practically shouts it and compliments it with a violent kick to the metal lockers, who clang loudly in response.

It was the only response she was going to get, too.

* * *

**AN- Here is where I pass the baton off to Em. I hope other people get the title...hehehe.**

**On a side note, I need to give a shout out to Lauren. She left this gorgeous little review to my other fic anonymously, and I just had to find a way to thank her.**

**L-**

**I'm so selfishly glad that my writing earned that review- and the honor of it as well. I was a lot like you when I first started, first invisible, then anon, then I made an account. I'm glad you like my work, and hopefully one day you make an account- you meet a lot of pretty fantastic people on here ;D**

**-J**


	2. Third Time's the Charm

**_Hi hello out there. This is Emily (phalangesbyfive). I'm not as good with author's notes as softer is. Her ANs make me h- never mind. She won't let me review her chapter. I'm hurt over it, but can't stay mad for long. Need my lovin'._**

**_ That's all I have now since this story is only rated T._ **_**Hope you enjoy**._

She honestly was trying to concentrate on the upcoming interrogation. In fact, a stream of possible questions was running through the back of her mind. That's the best she could do right now with the aching loss of one of her most prized possessions weighing down on her wrist with its loud absence. The lack of metal rubbing against her skin was more unbearable than the uncomfortable itchiness she'd learned to deal with over the years.

Kate stared at the murder board, at the computer screen, at the papers sitting on the desk in front of her. She was good at it – the staring. There was the "shut up or I'll smash my elbow into your chin" glare, the "we're going to pretend you didn't just say that" condescending look, the "I have way too much on my mind and don't know where to begin" gaze. There was an expression for every occasion, and she bore them all with a gorgeous intensity.

Her eyes said everything. Castle wrote with words, but her eyes wove stories of her past, present, and hopes for the future.

He could feel it the instant he sat by her side. He didn't even have to turn his head in her direction. She mumbled a thank you when he handed over a cup of coffee but didn't acknowledge his arrival in any other way. Something felt _off_. The air around her was heavy; tense.

"Everything okay?"

She looked up, startled at how he'd known immediately that something was wrong. By now she really should be used to it. "Yeah, Castle, everything's fine."

"Kate," he tried again, the softer edge to his voice unsettling her . "What is it?"

Meeting his eyes, she nearly told him. He had coaxed the most painful of secrets out of her many times in the past. Her mouth opened slightly on its on volition, the words rushing forward.

"Beckett, Connor McMillan is in Interrogation Room 1. Still want dibs?" Ryan's voice stopped her admission short, earning him a small, gratifying smile that confused him.

"I'll be right there," she responded, waiting for him to walk away before very deliberately not answering Castle. "Looks like we have a suspect."

* * *

"Mr. McMillan, I'm Detective Kate Beckett, and this is Richard Castle," she introduced herself and her shadow. The file she was carrying landed on the metal table with a loud thud while her chair scraped back, the sound echoing around the small room as she seated herself.

The man in question was leaned back casually, a hint of a smile showing as he popped a piece of gum for a third time. He'd been waiting for at least an hour, which meant the gum had to have lost flavor already. He kept it just to show how much he didn't care he was there, how the detective didn't intimidate him.

And after the day she was having, that just pissed her off.

"What can I do for you, Kate?" The smile grew larger in proportion to Castle's fist tightening.

"Detective Beckett," she corrected, her lips forming a tight line. "A confession would be great, but I'd settle for an alibi. Where were you last Saturday night?"

"Holed up with a pretty blonde thing. I forget her name. You know, she looked kinda like you..." His eyes traveled over parts of her body not blocked by the table.

Castle cleared his throat, his blood boiling. The only thing keeping him in check was what a quick look in Beckett's direction showed him.

The comment hadn't even registered for her. She was playing with the sleeve of her blouse, using her pointer finger and thumb to encircle her wrist for a moment before fiddling with the fabric again. She showed no signs of wanting to continue with the interrogation.

"Anonymous blonde woman isn't going to cut it," Castle started in, waiting for Beckett to take over.

Connor shrugged nonchalantly, popping his gum again. Castle's tone seemed to effect him, though. He rolled up his sleeves and crossed his arms defensively. This got the detective's attention.

"The name isn't important," she said to Castle, acting as thought they were the only two present and matching McMillan's his shrug. "DNA evidence is much more powerful than an eyewitness account, wouldn't you say?"

"The jury would eat that right up," Castle responded, befuddled but intrigued as to where she was taking this.

He shot up, wild eyes flashing between them. "What are you talking about!"

"That cut looks pretty serious, Mr. McMillan." She picked up the file, organizing some papers before placing it down neatly and looking at the wound running down his forearm. "How'd that happen?"

"Fence outside my house," he mumbled, rolling his sleeves back down despite the flash of heat her discovery fired in him.

"The thing is, we found a pool of blood at the crime scene that didn't belong to the vic. Our ME says it must be the killer's."

Wheels turned in their suspect's head. And then it clicked.

"I want a lawyer."

* * *

It was late and a lawyer wouldn't be willing to come in until the next day. Ryan and Esposito stepped in to lead him to a holding cell, pushing him with a little more force than was necessary.

Castle and Beckett stood up, watching their partners take the suspect away, Kate once again fiddling with her clothing.

"We got nowhere," she muttered, sweeping hair back from her face and rubbing her temple. "He lawyer-ed up before I could get anything substantial out of him. Dammit."

Castle's hand instinctively went to her shoulder, squeezing lightly in support. "Don't be so hard on yourself. He closed down, which means he has something to hide. It's just a matter of time now."

She tried to smile, but her face just wouldn't cooperate. There was too much going on in her personal life. The last thing she needed was a difficult suspect and a partner that never overlooked and always over-analyzed every move she made.

If he asked again with those piercing blue eyes, she would be a goner. This wasn't the time to fall apart. It was only a watch. She repeated it to herself, hoping it would stick, but with thoughts of her loss came watery eyes.

Castle reached up to try to grab her attention when he saw it – or rather, the lack of it. Bare skin he'd never seen before glared at him.

And he knew exactly what it was that had her off her game. "When did you last see it?"

She looked at him with a curious expression, but it wasn't one he recognized. There was no surprise; only submission and the loss of a weight that had been holding her underwater.

"Yesterday."


	3. The Best of Times, The Worst of Times

**Last chapter: I don't know about you guys, but I got shivers. "That's the best she could do right now with the aching loss of one of her most prized possessions weighing down on her wrist with its loud absence." Like. God. A very attractive angel put those words together in that gorgeous order.**

**a.n.: Sorry this took so damn long. This chapter pretty much wrote itself- it all flowed out in one sitting until the very end. For some reason it took me like three days just to write a few lines of dialog. I abandoned it for a day to get perspective, came back, and wrote it in like ten minutes. My brain makes no sense, even to me. So following up Em's chapter is going to be second to impossible, but I think I make up for it with length. Not that size….never mind. **

**Go on, now. Read.**

**

* * *

**

_Just a little more to the left.  
A little more…a little more….  
Damn. _

_Too far to the left._

Dave Trent was eye level with the wooden counter, a stack of used CDs inches from his face. His index finger poked at the side of the top CD case, slightly askew. They day had been pretty slow- a few customers here and there, but slow for a weekday. Upper management had been cutting jobs- just last week Darrel was canned, and Trent feared for his job. He had advertised on the sidewalk in chalk, two blocks up and down on either side, in desperate attempts to attract tourists and the occasional struggling artist.

_I hope that's legal._

The thought occurred to him but he pushed it out of mind and refocused his attention to the CD, which refused to line up with the others. He poked his finger at it again, this time from the other side, in attempts to straighten it.

_Right….just one more….  
Almost there….  
Yes!_

A loud clanging sound jolted his senses, taking him by complete surprise, and he jumped a mile in the air. His finger, no exception to the rest of his reflexes, jerked, knocked into the stack of CD's and sending them sprawling haphazardly across his counter.

"Dammit!" he muttered under his breath, his hard work now a scattered mess. He looked up to see the cause of the noise and saw it: a customer.

He was tall, well dressed. Definitely Upper East Side material- Trent could tell. The way he was dressed, smelled. Hell, the way he walked screamed it. Trent scrunched up his nose. Designer suit on top of a shirt that costs more than the whole store was probably worth, with pricey shoes to match. Despite the man's rich apparel, he seemed disheveled- out of breath, even. Like he had walked from his big-fancy park-avenue-with-a-view apartment all the way to East Harlem. _Poor rich bastard_, Trent thought, before he decided he didn't really care. He nodded a non-committal hello before returning to rebuild his destroyed tower of CDs.

Jimmy Hendrix, Madonna, Lil' Wayne, Tori Amos.  
One on top of the other.

It was as he was piling Ke$ha on top of She and Him when a leather belt came into his peripheral view. His eyes panned upwards, his face not moving from its spot inches from the low counter. The man was standing there, looking tired, run down and maybe a little frustrated.

"Can I help you?" Trent asked, standing up straight and pushing the stack of CDs to the side, to protect it from further damage.

"I'm looking for a watch."

**

* * *

**

Castle had spent the entire day searching.

He had covered six pawn shops shops in china town, another five in the east village- hell, he even took the Q to Bronx. And now, working his way back down the Hudson, he was here- in a run-down pawn shop filled with trinkets and out-of-tune, hand-painted acoustic guitars. He entered the shop, the bell attached to the door announcing his arrival.

That watch meant the world to Beckett. More than that, what the watch meant meant the world to her.

And Castle, writer through and through, was a sucker for symbolism.

He thought he knew- after she explained it to him, the meaning. To a degree maybe he did, but after the conversation last night he realized it ran much deeper than he was led to believe. It wasn't what Beckett told him that proved this. It was what she didn't.

She didn't try to brush it off as nothing.  
She didn't even bother trying to explain.  
She didn't threaten to shoot him when he made a pass at her.

**

* * *

**

_Castle sat in his seat. He can't remember when he started calling it his, or when Beckett did, but they did and it was. Beckett sat in hers, using scrap paper as a plate for her slice of pizza. Castle scarped his down, hardly chewing between swallows. He was starving- none of them had eaten since breakfast and it was already closing in on ten at night. He stuffed the last bite of crust in his mouth before looking over at Beckett. He pizza went untouched, her pen in hand and poised for writing but the paperwork in front of her void of any ink. _

_Her eyes were lost somewhere in the middle distance, and he could tell she was in a whole other world. "Beckett," he called, softly. "Becks." He repeated, when she didn't respond. She seemed to return to her body with great force, snapping her out of her reverie and into the current situation. "Everything okay up there?" He directed the question at her forehead. She cracked a small smile that had little truth to it and coupled it with an equally false nod of the head._

"_Want to talk about it?" He asked, even though he knew the answer. She shook her head, the movement minute but expected. "Want to talk about it anyways?" he asked her, and this time she caught his eye, reading his meaning. She sighed._

"_Will you drop the subject if I do?" she asked, and he knew he had succeeded._

"_Promise to get physical if I don't?" he whipped back. She had no witty retort, something that concerned him even further. _

"_I just can't figure it out," she replied. "I had nearly a hundred dollars in cash, not to mention jewelry in my locker. If it were just a robbery, why would they leave that behind?" Her brow scrunched up the way it did when she was concentrating intensely. _

"_One can logically conclude it was not a robbery," Castle pointed out. He was afraid to build theory. He had this weird idea that _she _needed to do that herself. He had a feeling that trying to would shut her up._

"_It's like he _knew _what the watch meant to me," she took a minute to consider this. "But then why didn't he take the ring?" Whether or not she expected an answer, he didn't know, but he didn't give on to be safe. She sighed again, poking the now cold pizza with her pen._

"_You should eat," he told her._

"_I'm not hungry." She replied, shortly. She sounded a bit like a defiant child, refusing to eat her vegetables, and Castle found it rather cute. Before he could reply to that, however, a loud grumbling sound erupted from her stomach._

"_I don't think your stomach agrees," he pointed out._

"_I just don't have much of an appetite."_

"_You look exhausted."_

"_You know how to make a woman blush," she bit back, sarcastically. That reaction was better than the lack there of he had been getting all day. She fought a smile when she realized his intention, and peeled a pepperoni from the now-cold slice, popping it in her mouth._

_Castle wasn't satisfied, but it was a step in the right direction so he smiled. "See?" he asked her. "Was that so bad?"_

_She chewed, thoughtfully, far longer than necessary as she was dragged deeper and deeper into thought._

"_It just doesn't make sense," she concluded, refusing to let anymore of herself show. Castle sighed and he knew that she was done sharing. Her mind rebuilt the fortress protecting itself. He debated the likelihood that she would talk, decided further prodding would get him nowhere fast and limbless, and instead changed the subject._

"_My mother finally moved out," he informed her, matter of fact-ly, the abrupt change of topic causing her to turn her head in surprise. _

"_I thought she moved out months ago?" she asked him, curiously._

"_She came by on one of her impromptu dinner visits the other night and collected the last of her clothing." To this Beckett shook her head._

"_That means something to you, doesn't it?" She asked him, smiling despite herself._

"_What else has she to gain from a visit to Casa de Castle? Martha Rogers goes nowhere without incentive, and nothing says closure like taking the last box of shoes and accessories."_

"_It sounds like you guys broke up," she commented, fighting a smirk at her own joke. Castle seemed to consider this. _

"_Now that you mention it, it played out a lot like the finale of both my marriages. Except maybe a lot more affable then the second one."_

"_Well Martha will stick around, for Alexis's sake, I'm sure." Kate assured him._

"_I'm surprised she didn't petition for split custody," Castle told her._

"_Who, Martha or Alexis?"_

"_Valid point." Castle admitted, reaching across her and picking a slice of pepperoni off of her pizza, popping it in his mouth._

* * *

The clerk gave him a nonchalant nod in greeting before busying himself with a stack of CD's on the counter. His eyes wandered aimlessly around the shop, absorbing his surroundings but not really caring too much. He approached the counter, much to the clerk's dismay, and spoke.

"I'm looking for a watch," he said, simply. He had started his search off much more enthusiastically, creating elaborate stories, even pseudonyms, getting really into the hunt, but hours later he was two things: tired and without much faith.

"Sure," the man on the other side of the counter responded, sounding slightly annoyed. He reached below the counter and pulled out a case full of watches, setting on the counter.

Castle examined each one through the clear plastic casing, studying each one. Nope. Not a one.  
None of them were Beckett's. _Damn. _"Do you have any others?" He asked aloud.

"No, man. Looking for something in particular?"

"Just lost something."

"Sorry," the clerk shrugged, not looking very sorry. Castle opened his mouth to continue with questioning, when a shrill ring cut his words off.

"Castle," he answered into the phone, not bothering with the caller ID. In his periphery he saw the clerk look up in surprise at his name.

"I'm hungry," the woman on the other end of the call informed him in way of greeting.

"Beckett?" he replied, surprised.

"Chinese?" she asked back, clearly not in the mood for small talk.

"How did you live without me here to feed you?" She could hear the amusement in his voice.

"Peacefully," she whipped back, earning a gorgeous smile she couldn't see.

"I'll be there in 15 minutes," he promised, hanging up the phone.

**

* * *

**

**So?**

**I know its long, but if you've gotten this far, you may as well review.  
Just saying.**

**I want to know what you guys think about all this.  
Do it.**

**And to Emily: **tag your it.

**3 sof**


	4. Passing the Time

_My fault, my fault! All Emily's fault that this chapter took so long. I'm a dirty, filthy procrastinator with no confidence. Anyway, here. Softer (the top hat to my cannon) will soon blow you away with one of her fabulous chapters. Enjoy?_

_

* * *

_

His presence was announced by a knock and wisps of Chinese food wafting under the door. Kate was greeted first by his overwhelmingly huge smile and then the source of that amazing smell.

She waved him in, greedy eyes glued to the bag holding their dinner. "Beef Lo Mein, my favorite," she said reverently.

Castle chuckled. "I'm good for something. I also brought ingredients to make strawberry pie. Love me?" It was meant as a joke, and he halfway expected her to roll her eyes and come back with a witty retort, but a part of him just needed conformation after the day he'd had – a simple smile to tell him that their friendship was as strong as ever, because pain has a way of fracturing relationships of all kinds.

What he said didn't register, and Kate responded by snatching the bag from him and carelessly throwing the door shut. "Wine in the usual place."

They set out paper plates and two glasses of wine on the coffee table, Beckett using chopsticks and Castle using a fork. They sat in silence, scarfing down food at the most polite pace they could manage.

The day had been brutal both emotionally and physically for the pair. Castle had mostly walked around checking street vendors and every pawn shop nearby, and some not so near. Every 'no' he received was a blow to the chest, and he started to blame himself for the whole mishap.

Beckett's pain was a burden he carried as if it was his given duty. If he couldn't fix it, he might as well have caused it.

She herself had spent her day looking for the prized possession to no avail. It started by a visit to her not-so-favorite robbery detective, which turned out to be less awkward than she'd anticipated.

Demming had been shocked to see her in the robbery division, and to say he was cold was an understatement. She couldn't blame him; their past was shaky and confusing.

The instant she'd told him what brought her there, however, things thawed. He didn't know the extent of the importance the watch held for her, but the pained expression alerted him to her need and vulnerability.

Demming was, above all, a good man. Though things between them were strained and there was no decent explanation she could offer to him (or herself, for that matter), he cared for Beckett and didn't like seeing anyone in pain. He immediately got out a pad of paper and wrote down what she could tell him. With a promise he would do everything in his power, they nodded and went their separate ways.

From there she'd gone to invest in a better lock – a fancy, expensive one that required a five digit code. It was going to be worth the money if it kept her other valuables safe, especially her ring.

The ring that now hung on a much stronger, heavier chain so she was always sure it hadn't moved. It hid beneath the neckline of her shirt, warm against her chest. She felt it jostle as she took another bite of noodles and turned to Castle.

"Good day?" she asked around a bite.

He paused and mulled over his response. Telling her what he'd been doing meant sending her on a guilt trip. She would hate to know that he'd spent so much time and energy on her account. A fight would ensue. She would think he was overstepping again. He couldn't risk it.

He'd tell her if he found something, and not a moment before. "Not really. Just browsed around some local shops."

She rolled her eyes. "What did you buy, or do I want to know?"

"Didn't find what I was looking for," he answered with a shrug. "And you, Detective?"

Kate had done enough talking about feelings. It wasn't much, but it was a lot for her. Truth be told, she felt like a naïve child, carrying around all of that hope without considering what would happen if she didn't find what she was looking for. No one could know the extent of her worry and determination.

She couldn't be obsessed again. Her dad was addicted to alcohol, and she'd been consumed by her mother's case. If she didn't tell anyone about the effort she was exerting to find the watch, then she wasn't going overboard. Things were fine if she could deny it.

Very deliberately avoiding his eyes, she put down her food and started to clear the table, talking as she cleaned. "Went to the precinct for a bit. Did some shopping of my own. Nothing interesting."

Castle helped by pouring more wine, sipping deeply before pouring more. Their mutual hesitance to speak was making things awkward. He was hiding something, and he had a feeling she was, too.

Beckett grabbed a glass from his hand and chugged it before smiling for the first time that day. "You going to just stand there, or are we going to bake this pie?"

"No, stop! That's too much!" Castle cried out, making a grab for the bowl of strawberries, but Beckett yanked it out of reach.

"Stop being a backseat chef!" she scolded, chucking a strawberry at his nose. "I have this under control."

Castle picked up the offending fruit and popped it in his mouth, grinning like a child. He put his hands over hers, steadying the bowl so they wouldn't all dump into the crust at once.

"See? Better."

Kate didn't know what he was talking about. His hands were warm and gentle, guiding hers with ease. His chest rubbed against her back, the faint smell of his cologne wrapping her in a hug.

"Much." She wasn't sure which part she was referring to, but she had a nagging feeling that it had nothing to do with the dessert they were making and more to do with the comfort settling over her.

How he always seemed to either drive her absolutely mad or make everything still and quiet, she didn't know. The man was so much more of a factor in her emotional state than she'd like to admit, but tonight she didn't mind. She was simply happy in his company.

"You have juice on your chin," she told him, fighting back a smile when he ran his tongue around the edge of his mouth, eyebrows raised questioningly. "Nope, didn't get it."

She raised a finger to his face, wiping the red stain away. "There we go."

Their bodies were facing each other now, mere inches separating them from no man's land – a place of mystery that was avoided out of fear and doubt.

"This reminds me of the time Alexis and I stayed up all night playing Monopoly. By all night, I mean I convinced Alexis to extend her bedtime by an hour," Castle reminisced, pulling away slightly and staring into the distance for a moment.

"Baking a pie reminds you of Monopoly…?" She raised an eyebrow and spread out the strawberries evenly, trying to ignore the cold that invaded where Castle's body had been a few seconds ago.

"Well, we obviously had to have dessert for dinner beforehand." He gave her his best 'duh' look and returned the ingredients to the fridge.

"I've never played Monopoly," she admitted. "My family was more into Scrabble if we played anything at all."

Castle nearly dropped the tub of whipped cream. Turning to her, he asked in a baffled voice, "_Never_ played Monopoly!"

She shrugged and stuck the pie in the oven, her stomach already grumbling in anticipation. It was Castle's recipe, so she was slightly wary of it, but the ingredients didn't involve anything too strange.

"This must be rectified," he announced seriously.

"Uh, Castle, where do you plan on getting the game at this hour? I think I'll survive one more night."

He slammed his fist down in mock horror. "This won't do! I'm making a quick trip to my place. Keep a lookout on that pie 'til I get back."

* * *

Castle returned while Kate was in the middle of reading one of the books she owned that wasn't written by him. He had the game in his hand and marched to her table, putting it down and starting to set it up.

"I'm always the top hat," he said, picking it up with a grin.

Beckett looked over the little silver pieces, eyes flickering until she landed on the perfect one. "Cannon," she announced. Competition lit up her eyes.

"I'm banker."

"No way in hell you are, Castle. You have enough money as it is." She grabbed the fake bills, organizing them into stacks and dealing them out according to the directions.

He explained the rules, including some that he made up, claiming they made the game more fun. Kate went along with it, unable to resist the excited expression he had ever since he returned to her apartment. It was light and happy – something her day had lacked up until now.

And the game began, both sure to buy every property they landed on and heckle their opponent.

Kate jumped from her seat as she passed Go. "That'll be $200, Mr. Castle! I'll just help myself." She pulled the cash from the bank, jeering at him.

"Someone's getting cocky. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea," he joked.

"Too late now; you've created a monster. Also, you owe me $10." She held out her hand.

"Do you smell that?" He scrunched up his nose, standing up and looking around. "Something's burning."

"What you smell is defeat. Don't think you're getting out of paying me just because-" She stopped short, the smell reaching her. "The pie!"

They rushed to the oven, opening it and fanning away the smoke. Castle turned to her with a shake of his head and a smile. "What do you say we head to Remy's?"


	5. Talk About Timing

**Ahh, at last chapter 5. I can't tell you how relieved I was to get this chapter (I have a thing with fives. Such a clean, divisible number. No muss, fuss, no remainder. It's just perfect). So Emily kind of blew me away with last chapter; just saying. She has this clever way of words- a way of saying things without actually saying them. The fact that the wine was in the usual place, and that Castle knew where the usual place was? Didn't escape me. I'm too smart for that. Nice try, though, Em, sneaking that in there. Clever girl. **

**ANYWAYS. Chapter Five.**

**There is talk.  
Lots of talk.**

**Talk about romance, talk about mystery.  
Talk about a watch.  
Talk about timing. **

**Chapter 5 |** Talk about Timing

* * *

This was killing her. Alexis was sitting in the living room, her feet tucked under a blanket and 'The American Pageant' propped open. From behind the door of her father's study, she could hear creaking. It was the all-too familiar creaking of the floorboards.

She heard it when he was having story trouble.  
When he was knee-deep in writer's block.  
When Meredith was in town.  
And when Kate Beckett was upset.

She listened to him pace the floors of his office.

She weighed the options- trying to decide what was bothering him this time.

Story trouble, maybe. Not likely, not now, but maybe.  
Writer's block was most definitely not an issue- not lately.  
She wasn't pulled out of school today, so no Mom.

And then she remembered his face when he walked in that night.

Alexis Castle sighed and shut her history book, collecting the blanket and tossing it carelessly onto the couch before approaching the door. She knocked, lightly. It was never a requirement, he rarely shut it at all, but she always did out of politeness. Before a response came, though, she swung the wooden door open and stepped in to see her father.

He was standing there, looking like a deer in the headlights. His hair was disheveled, the way it got when he ran his hand through it so many times, and his eyes looked tired and dark. "Hey pumpkin," he greeted, pulling her presence in stride and trying to make his compromising position look natural.

"You are going to wear a hole in the floor, you keep on like you are," she informed him in greeting, leaning against the frame of the entrance, her arms crossed across her chest. He seemed to sigh and stopped pretending.

Pretending everything was okay.

His shoulders slumped and he fell into his desk chair, defeated. His face found purchase in his hands. Alexis softened her demeanor, making her way behind his chair and resting her hands on his shoulder. "What did you do this time?" she asked him, knowingly.

"Nothing!"

"Dad," she said, in her best condescending tone.

"Really," again he sighed as she watched him debate how much to tell her. He always did that. They had a pact- honesty. It's what kept them working so fluidly. They were honest with each other. But Kate Beckett had him by the coattails, and Alexis knew they had a honesty pact of their own- one he wasn't about to risk and Alexis wasn't about to ask him to. "I didn't. It's just…this case."

"I thought you were set on that McMillan character?"

"Not _our _case. More…my case."

"Dad, if you mean-" her worry got a soft chuckle from her father.

"No, I learned that lesson the hard way. She…She had something stolen- something special to her."

"And you want to get it back for her," Alexis finished, understanding. "Save the day. That's my Dad."

"But it's just so frustrating," he said, more to himself than her. She watched him do this- torture himself every time Kate was hurt. Almost the same way he tortured himself when Alexis was late for something or another. Alexis had this idea that her and Kate Beckett were grouped in this little 'care' category in her dad's mind, and she smiled at the thought.

"Anything I can help with?" she asked, knowing words of comfort and cliché were going to be futile. Her father didn't want her to tell her everything would be okay. She wasn't sure what he wanted, to be honest, but she knew it wasn't words filled with false confidence. He turned his head up to see his daughter, a small smile on his face.

"You should probably sit down," he told her, honestly.

"I'll get the brain food," she told him, slipping out of the study, returning a minute later.

She pulled up a chair, setting down a bag of pretzel sticks and a tub of Nutella on the desk between them. She opened the container and grabbed a stick, dunking it before chewing, thoughtfully. "Start at the beginning," she told him, as he helped himself. "And don't leave anything out. We are going to solve this." She told him.

He smiled broadly at her enthusiasm. Alexis was no stranger to a mystery, and she wouldn't shy away from one, not for AP US History and not for anything else.

Yes, she was his daughter.

**

* * *

**

This was killing her. Lanie Parrish drummed her fingers against her crossed arms as she watched Kate Beckett. She was sitting at her desk, doing paperwork. Occasionally she would sip at her coffee, maybe make a phone call, but she was mostly just completing a never-ending slew of paperwork.

_Why. _

Lanie knew.  
Of course she knew, she was _Lanie._  
It was her job to notice these things.

The moment Kate walked into the morgue she saw its absence. It wasn't the lack of the watch that she noticed at first, more like the lack of confidence. Oh, sure, she put on a good show, carrying her head real high and shoulders set back, but Lanie knew better. The air that normally followed her like an aura was dimmer, and a shade off.

Like someone deflated her helium balloon and filled it with recycled oxygen.

It broke her heart to bits.

Finally, Lanie approached.

"Hey girlfriend," she greeted, plopping herself into what was normally Castle's chair. She got the feeling from the brief, almost non-existent look that passed on Kate's face that it was _always _Castle's chair. Always would be. She would move but she had already sat so she crossed her legs and leaned back.

"Hey, Lanie," Kate looked up for a moment but resumed her paperwork, avoiding direct eye contact. That would be the end of the denial thing she had working for her, and Lanie knew that.

"What did he do this time?" Lanie asked, reading Kate's face like a book. The watch wasn't the only thing that was bothering her, this much Lanie was sure of.

"Huh?" Kate looked up this time, catching her eye.

"Writer boy. What did he do?"

"N-nothing," Kate said, unsure of what Lanie was getting at.

"Then why are you wearing the 'Castle-is-riding-my-last-nerve' look?"

"I do not have a 'Castle-si-riding-my-last-nerve' look," she denied, almost offended.

"Yes you do. You alternate it with the 'Castle's-so-cute-I could-totally-jump-his-bones' look." Lanie informed her, matter-of-factly.

"I'm not even going to acknowledge that with an answer."

"I have it from a liable source that you two left really late last night. Shared a cab, too."

"Burt from the night shift is not a reliable source- He would tell you anything to make you look at him twice," Kate said, unimpressed, indirectly proving Lanie right.

"You're not denying it."

Kate said nothing.

"You can either tell me about the watch, or you can tell me about your late night with Castle," Lanie said, stating the ultimatum. "And I'm kind of leaning towards the late night with Castle."

"How did you-"

"Honey." Lanie stared at her, pointedly. "I am your best friend. Don't tell me writer boy notices before I do. No ma'am."

"Well," Kate said, sighing and turning to face her friend, the paper and pen abandoned. "I'll start with the watch, and go from there."

**0x0x0x0xx0x**

"Why would someone steal just her watch?" Alexis asked, fully engrossed in her father's tale. She had curled up on the futon opposite her father's desk, pillow and blanket in tow, pretzel sticks within arm's reach.

"That's what's got me stumped."

"Why won't you just tell her your looking? Maybe she can help you?"

"I can't. She…I don't think she would like it very much."

"Then you should probably let sleeping bears lie," his daughter advised, prophetically.

"I believe the term is dogs," he corrected, humor in his voice. She merely shrugged.

"Bears are scarier." A moment of silence passed.

"It just kills me to see her like this," he admitted, and the look on his face sent a shock to her heart.

"It kills me to you _you _like this," Alexis admitted.

"Like a part of her is missing. A part of who she is," he said, more to himself than her.

"She is, dad," his eyes shot up to meet hers. "So go find it for her."

**

* * *

**

"You guys made _pie?_" Lanie asked, mouth dropping open.

"Mmmm," Kate nodded, forcing the smile that threatened to break on her face away. "Well, we tried to." Lanie arched an eyebrow, signaling to continue. "We burnt it."

"And what kept you so occupied that you couldn't hear the timer?" Lanie's voice was dripping with suggestion.

"Monopoly," even as she said it she felt silly.

"Is that was the cool kids are calling it these days?" Lanie asked, and she enjoyed a moment of laughter at her friends expense. And then Lanie's face grew grave. "Why don't you just ask him?"

"What?"

"Ask Castle for help."

Kate scoffed. The tell-tale scoff of denial.

"What's he going to do? Will it to appear?"

"Kate, you may not know it, but that man would go to the end of the world and back to help you. I think you _do _know it, and that's why you haven't asked for his help. He knows people, Kate. He could help."

"So could you," Kate deflected. Lanie knew she was angling the conversation away but she let her anyways.

"And you must be out of your damn mind if you think you even have to ask me, girl," Lanie assured her, earning a thankful smile. "But I mean what I said about Castle and the end of the world."

This time Beckett didn't bother scoffing, just looked down, closing her thumb and forefinger around the bare spot on her wrist.

* * *

**I hope I kept everyone in character (especailly Lanie and Alexis...)**

**Please review, and keep tuned for another excellent (and very revealing, I must say) chapter from phalangesbyfive in the very near future.  
I think it's about _time _these two fess up, eh? **

Sorry. I couldn't help myself.

**sof**


	6. About Damn Time

**Who here thinks softer is a wizard with words? Me too. You guys are going to LOVE her next chapter. Seriously, it's going to blow you away. She won't let me review, so you guys have to do it for me. Deal?**

**Anyway, here's my chapter. -phalangesbyfive **

Castle stood in front of a run-down building with paper covered windows and a dimly lit sign that told him it was open. It was a thirty minute cab drive to get there, but he'd already been to every other pawn shop in the city. This place was the smallest he'd come by and resembled a business the least.

It was for Kate, though, and that made it worth the trouble.

There was no chime when he opened the door, and a man behind the counter just glared at him as he made his way over through the organized chaos.

"I close in ten minutes. Whatever you need, hurry up," was the cashier's greeting. He had the key to close the register in his hand, and he twirled it around while letting out a long sigh, giving Rick the stink-eye relentlessly.

How did it get so late? It seemed like just an hour ago he was saying goodnight to Beckett, hugging her at the door briefly. She surprisingly let him, accepting the comfort for a moment before giving him the slightest push away.

She still wouldn't let him in completely. There had to be a boundary – a line to make her feel like she was safe and unaffected. Castle just reveled in the little bit of smudging he managed with that display of affection.

"Do you have any watches?" Rick asked. The question was second nature now, as familiar to him as his own name.

"All in here." He tapped the glass counter, which held more expensive items.

Castle knelt down so he was eye-level with them, looking at each one carefully and feeling his heart drop when he failed to recognize _her_ watch. Dammit.

He wasn't sure how much more disappointment he could handle, and knowing it didn't come close to what Kate must feel crushed him.

"Are these the only ones you have?"

* * *

Beckett had stayed up late with Castle, not returning to her apartment until well after midnight, but it left her feeling less stressed and didn't stop her from getting up bright and early. Her alarm woke her at six, and she jumped out of bed with a lack of enthusiasm, but a load of determination to make up for it.

She had a witness to track down, and from what Esposito had told her, he was less than willing to share. There was nothing better than someone standing in the way of a case to distract her from her own personal mystery.

And that's how she found herself walking back from a successful talk with Mr. Strauss – a talk that lasted much longer than she would have liked.

Her car was a block away, and the gun at her hip was comforting as she took in her surroundings. This wasn't the safest part of New York, and it was one of those areas that was even more dangerous for a cop. Authority figures such as herself were seen as more of a threat than a helping hand.

A car sped by at an alarming speed, tires squealing in protest. She turned to see the cause of the reckless driving as a flyer fell from a light pole to her right. She caught it, intending to throw it away before the header caught her eye.

She sped up, the building it was advertising only two blocks ahead, throwing the door open and stopping dead in her tracks when she saw who was at the counter.

Her heart stopped, and there was a pounding in her head that she could feel as well as hear. She knew what he was doing instantly.

"Are these the only ones you have?" Castle asked from his position by the watches.

The cashier glanced over at her, the motion catching Castle's attention. He turned and met Beckett's eyes, his own widening in disbelief and apprehension.

She was torn between yelling, crying, and throwing her arms around him for sticking his nose in her business without asking yet again.

And although she was surprised to see him here, she was in no way shocked. She stared, slack jawed, at Castle, processing the situation before swiveling her head, her eyes connecting with the cashier and that switch flicking on to cop-mode. "Well, answer the damn question."

* * *

The pair sat on barstools with their coffee, Kate blowing on hers and hoping Castle wouldn't bring up what would inevitably lead to a heated disagreement. His sense of honor got him into trouble, and she was too close to the edge as it was. One word from him could send her tumbling over.

"I've been checking every pawn shop out there. I'm starting to smell like dust and tobacco," Castle started. "None of them have the watch, Kate."

"I didn't ask you to look, Castle. You shouldn't be wasting your time. Finding it that way is a long-shot." Her default emotion when shaken up was anger, and after working with her for so long, he was well aware of that; it didn't faze him at all.

"More of a chance of finding it than if I didn't look at all. At least I narrowed it down. There are a few more places I want to check tomorrow."

"Don't bother." His wounded expression made her lighten up a bit. "I appreciate your help, but you have more important things to be doing. You won't find it." She swallowed back the lump in her throat because she had to believe that was a lie.

"Then why were you there?" He asked pointedly.

"I was in the area talking to a witness and saw a flyer. It was spur of the moment and pointless." She just wanted him to stop. This was her pain, her loss, and her search. He shouldn't be involved. She was having enough trouble hiding her worry without someone scrutinizing her every move.

"I'm not giving up. This is one of those times I can really help, Beckett. _Let _me help."

He was looking at her with no trace of a joke, only with concern and good intentions. And she gave in. Resisting took more energy than she had.

"I've asked around, and I have some people keeping an eye out. There's really not much anyone can do. Something like this is unlikely to be found." She repeated what Demming had told her.

"Well, I'm sure as hell not giving up, not this soon." He gave her his best charming smile, taking a sip of his coffee and wincing. "Hot."

Kate sighed. "It doesn't matter what I say. You aren't going to leave it alone, are you?" It was more of a statement than a question.

His hands moved toward hers across the table, but stopped short when he saw her flinch involuntarily. "I will if you really want me to, but I don't think you do. Trust me with this. Let me be there."

Something he said struck a chord, and his persistence that wore her down. She found herself nodding, her body acting without her mind's consent, and briefly covered his hands with one of her own. "So, which shops haven't you checked out yet? I have a little time before heading back to the precinct."

The smile that brought to his face was bigger than any she'd seen, and it reflected the hope she felt from one touch of his hand.


	7. Time is Everything

**My turn :) I hope you took the time to leave Em a review with your thoughts :) I thought it was kind of spectacular. **

**And now for the _plan.

* * *

_**

"I have a plan."

Kate turned to see Castle, poised with his chin cupped in one hand and his coffee cup in the other, his fingers drumming thoughtfully against the ceramic side. She lowered the pen she was chewing. His bottom lip found home beneath his front teeth, proving he'd spent way too much time around the woman.

"Care to elaborate?" she asked when he said nothing else. He chewed on his lip a moment more, debating, it seemed, as if he was unsure how to continue.

"It's going to be dangerous," he warns her, falling back on an easy grin with little heart behind it.

"I carry a gun," she reasoned.

"Not this time, you won't. Or your badge," he said, and the way his eyes locked with hers, all traces of humor gone, she knew he was serious. "You are going to be off duty, unarmed and wearing street clothes."

She did nothing but nod. "So, what's the plan?" she asked, reaching for her keys after a shaky moment of silence. A serious Castle was not something she was accustomed to, let alone a Castle taking charge. She was stunned into following along.

More lip chewing, and then:

"No ma'am," He said shortly, stilling her hand when she reached for the car keys sitting on her desk. "Your Crown Vic may not be marked, but where we are going it may as well have a siren and an animated sign." Now he was standing, slipping on his coat, and she followed suit. She dropped her keys, letting them fall to the wooden desk with a subdued ring.

"Okay, Castle," she said in a voice that was wary but steady. She still needed some sort of control in this situation, even if it was just having a say-so. "We will do it your way."

"Thank you."

The cab ride was a long one- Castle sat on one side, Kate on the other, each very aware of each other, the gaping space between them and the loud silence they sat in. He was staring out the window, the glass cool on his forehead, fidgeting with his fingers nervously as Beckett watched him through slanted eyelids. She debated probing further.

_Just how dangerous was this plan? _

"Castle," she said, inwardly proud at how calm she managed to sound. "Castle!" She called again when she received no response.

"Hmm?" He snapped out of his reverie and turned to her, his best carefree face back in place where it belonged.

"Just what are we getting into here?" Her response was in a resigned sigh, shortly followed by words.

"It's not-"

"Don't bullshit me, Castle. I've never seen you this quiet since…ever, really. What are we about to walk into?" She asked the last part as the cab pulled up to a bar. It was a shabby little place nestled into a dark, forgotten corner of Alphabet City, with half the windows tapped over and only a flickering red 'open' sign indicating the life no doubt inside.

He looked at her the- really looked at her- their eyes locking, and he was struck with the urge to reach out and touch the hand she had rest on the worn seat beside him. "It's…" He seemed to contemplate his words. "I know a guy. We go way back, book research for 'Chasing Storm.'"

"That is way back."

"Yeah. Trevor is…well in his world, there is a sort of…quid pro quo standard."

"Like in a Hannibal sort of way?" she asked, her eyebrows knitting as she processed. "Clarice," she said, in her best Anthony Hopkins impersonation. If the situation weren't so serious, it would have been funny, and he would have admitted it was quite good. "Quid pro quo, Clarice!" she said again, laughing at her own joke, her hand finding his knee in the process. When her silliness earned no laughter from the man, she stilled, her hand still resting on his knee and she used it to keep her balance. "C'mon, Castle," she said, willing herself not to look at her hand. "Lighten up a little."

"Let's just get this over with." And with those words he opened the cab door, slipping out. When he had paid the cabbie's fare and they were on the street, the tired looking pub the destination, he fell into stride beside her, their arms brushing with every swing. He opened the door for her, stepping in behind her and stilling her with a light grasp on her arm. "Kate-" he started. She turned. "Follow my lead?"

"I already told you I would, Castle. Much unlike yourself, I'm a very cooperative listener."

"I wish you would stop making jokes," he muttered.

"Now you know how I feel all the time," she shot back. With that and a moment of quiet, they both relaxed, the spat over and apology written on both their faces. They both read each other so plainly, it needn't be said.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, so quietly she almost missed it. There was a half a beat of silence. Not hesitation, no, but consideration. Did she trust him?

The obvious answer was yes.  
She did.

"Yeah, Castle. I trust you." She met his eyes deliberately; he knew she meant it. Wordlessly he turned her so they were facing each other dead on, looking her up and down with a hand on either arm.

For a second she thought he was going to kiss her. She brushed that notion, along with the weird fluttering in her stomach, away as he reached for the zipper of her jacket. It was the black leather one she had become rather attached to, although the brown was still her favorite. "Castle, what-" but he paid no attention, just unzipping her jacket to just above her midriff, pulling apart to better display the tank top she wore underneath. It was light pink with a simple cut neckline, the chain of her necklace visible, but the ring lost beneath the shirt. His hand then reached behind her, pulling at the rubber band she threw her hair up in earlier. Her hair, curly because she hadn't the patience or the drive to straighten it that morning, fell free to a little past her shoulders.

He smiled, pushing a lock behind her ear. She suppressed the shudder that threatened to shake her body at the damn near intimate touch and gritted her teeth. "Castle, what are you-" again he touched her arm, and again she thought he was going to kiss her. He just looked her up and down again, nodding as if satisfied with his work.

"Follow my lead," he reminded her, although it came out more as a question. She nodded, and in the double glass doors they went.

The bar was just as neglected looking on the inside- worn down with years and alcohol and many a brawl. The bartender- a young man with the hint of a beard and sleeves of tattoos- nodded a hello, but other than that the quiet bar didn't recognize their arrival. Beckett followed Castle to the bar. "Let me get a scotch with rocks and-" Castle turned to Kate, debating on what to order "And a coke for the lady." The bartender nodded and made off to make the drinks. "I know how you feel about drinking on the job."

"I thought I wasn't on the job?" she said instead of admitting how touched she was he considered.

"One of us needs to stay level headed," he said as the bartender set down their drinks in scarred glasses. He leaned back on the bar and took in the room, and it was obvious to Kate he was looking for someone. It was also obvious when he found who he was searching for. He made his way to one of the booths along the far wall and adjacent to the ancient looking pool table.

"Trevor," he greeted, and it wasn't until his name was spoken did she see the man sitting at the booth.

He was mid- forties, conservative estimate, with gray sprinkled lightly in his mane of unkempt black hair and a beard hiding his chin. "Richard?" he asked, his voice booming. Loud talker. "Richard Castle?" He was growing louder until it was an exclamation, but none of the bar's other patrons paid notice.

"Yeah."

"And to what do I owe this peachy pleasure?" Kate watched as his surprised exclamation was rapidly turning to one of sarcasm and biting anger.

"I need your help, Trev," Castle said, and Kate's eyed him, unable to help the flutter of happy surprise at how calm he sounded. There was a few beats of heavy, loaded silence as the two seemed to size each other up, and it was Trevor, sensing the man's resolve, who folded.

"Well don't stand there all day, kid. Take a seat." It was when they were seated across from the man that he acknowledged Kate. "Who's the dame?" he asked, his eyes flickering to where she sat. It was then she placed the foreign clip to his voice- Dutch.

"This is my girl, Kate."

"Kate," again, he looked her up and down, this time with a lingering gaze.

Kate found Castle's foot under the table, pressing on it.  
Hard.

He winced, anticipating her reaction before it happened.

_So _that's_ what that was all about before,_ she realized.

Castle's arm fell around her shoulders, pulling her into his side in the best possible way, his lips brushing her ear when he spoke, his voice merely breath. To anyone, including the man seated across from them, it just looked like a public display of affection. "Trevor Miles runs a chain of street vendors around here and the Bowery," he explained.

"Hey, hey," Trevor interrupted. "I believe you; you don't have to prove it, God." Castle smiled a little before pressing his lips to her temple, briefly, tying the proverbial bow on the act. Kate's foot lightened on his, almost of its own accord. "So what is this about my help?"

Henry looked into the bottom of his glass- watching the last of the beer swish around and the tiny whirlpool that formed. He sighed before downing the last of it, resuming his gaze to the now-empty glass as if there were a movie playing at the bottom. The sound of the door beckoned his eyes up and he saw them- Kate and the man. She was dressed down and he could see skin- she was showing so much skin, out there for anyone to see. Rage boiled in the pit of his stomach as he watched the man that was with her- watched him slip his arm around her. They sat at a nearby booth, talking to the man he knew as Trevor.

He heard snippets of conversation. Rick, he gathered as the man's name.

He had his hands all over her. His arm circled her shoulders and his lips touched her temple, her foot covering his. He felt a wave of nausea. "This is my girl, Kate," he heard the man named Rick introduce her. Bile rose in his throat. He listened anyways, despite the anger piling up with every spoken word. That's when he heard- the watch.

"I'm looking for a watch," the man named Rick told Trevor. Henry's hand found his pocket, palming the watch he knew rest there, almost reassuringly. So that's who the watch belonged to. Rick.

Henry's eyes returned to the happy couple, her hand on his knee under the table and her foot still half covering his. And then his eyes glossed over, logical reasoning lost somewhere beneath the rage and the jealousy that stormed him. He stared, plots already forming in his head as he watched the only thing standing in his way.

* * *

**I hope my creeper was creepy enough.  
And I hope you review even more.**

**Next Up- Em is going to blow this chapter out of the water with her wit (Talent may have something to do with it, and words will be involved, for sure.) **

**Review.  
Love.**

**softer. **


	8. Just A Matter of Time

**_Viewer discretion advised; coarse language will ensue.  
This is kind of choppy and short, but softer's next chapter will more than make up for it.

* * *

_**

It's strange how something can affect you so profoundly that it's the first thing on your mind when you wake up. It determines your mood, your energy, the way you move.

That's how it was for Castle. He'd spent days trying to find Kate's watch to no avail, and as happy as he was that she finally let him help, it just made it that much worse when she showed her pain. The wall defending her also defended him; the less pain he saw, the less pain he felt.

And he wasn't helping at all, though he tried.

Trevor gave them the name of a vendor who acquired his wares in less than legal ways. They'd gone to speak with him, and he'd given them a list of people. All of them were contacts he bought from known for their thieving expertise. None of them were helpful.

Castle sat on the edge of his bed for a moment, breathing in deeply so he could get up and face Beckett, mutual disappointment sure to show in their expressions. Shit.

It was time to get up and stop feeling sorry for himself.

He padded through the kitchen, pouting while he still had the chance. Keys in hand, he wrote a note for Alexis and headed out to his car.

When he saw it, he dropped his keys in shock. He fumbled with his cell phone, taking three tries until he finally got the right number dialed.

"Beckett, how fast can you get to my place?"

* * *

"Who the hell did you sleep with and forget to call the next day?" Beckett arrived at the scene and looked just as shocked as Castle did to find his car had been majorly vandalized.

The windows were reduced to tiny beads of glass, covering the road and the seats. Everything was smashed in, mirrors incapable of showing your reflection. The license plate was missing, and something sharp that had slashed the tires had also carved lines into the hood.

"I have no idea what this is about," he said, running a hand through his hair.

"We need to file a report. Has anything else happened? You've checked inside?" She was walking around the car, surveying the damage.

"Yeah, nothing else was touched. Do you think it could have been random?" Castle sounded hopeful.

"With this amount of destruction, I highly doubt it. You should call Alexis and tell her to let you pick her up rather than take a cab. Until we know what this is about, she shouldn't be alone in there." She pointed to his building with her pen before scribbling down more information.

"Yeah, I should call her right now. I don't want to scare her, though. She's out with friends. I don't want to ruin that. Should I wait a bit? I could just be really vague, but she'd pick up on it. Maybe I could tell her I have a surprise. Yeah, we could go get ice cream and-" He was pacing, his words spilling out faster than Beckett could keep up with.

She stopped him by grabbing his arm and pulling him close. "I don't know why they did this to you, or who 'they' is, but we'll find out." Her breath was on his neck, and her arms were soothing.

Castle pulled her closer and held on tight. They both needed comfort; they both needed release and support. She was so close, and she smelled so good, but he wasn't even thinking about kissing her.

Their connection was a life-line, neither wanting to let go.

"You can ride with me to the precinct until your car is fixed. You might want to invest in a car alarm." The rumble of his laugh traveled from his chest to hers.

He pulled back first to smile. "I can just take a cab." They both hoped she would tell him not to be ridiculous.

She only had to think for a second before offering again, this time more forcefully. "It's not a problem. I'll get coffee that much earlier in the day."

She wouldn't meet him gaze. The feeling behind it was radiating off of him, and facing it would take her breath away. Instead, she motioned to her car. "Let's go. The sooner we report this, the better."

"Can I drive?"

Beckett rolled her eyes and got in on the driver's side. "I think my car is a bit scared of you after what happened to yours."

"Ha-ha," he quipped.

* * *

Everyone knew Kate Beckett was his. She smiled at him in the bar. It was the most radiant smile under the sun, and it was all for him. She loved Henry, not Rick.

She must have been trying to make him jealous. The woman was a tease, flaunting that piece of meat around to get his attention. Oh, it worked.

He had to show her that it wasn't acceptable to do that. He was dedicated to the relationship, but she was a free spirit. He'd been patient. He had waited weeks for her to finally settle down with him, to let him love her the way he knew only he could.

The way she and Rick were touching? Right out in public? It made her look like a filthy whore. Rick was ruining her, corrupting her.

Kate wasn't seeing thinking clearly. She couldn't see how wrong Rick was, how right Henry was.

Henry would help her. That's what he was there for, no matter how horribly she treated him, how she made herself so desirable…and then giving it to another man.

So he sat outside Rick's building, waiting in his car for him to come out and see what happens when people mess with his woman.

His reaction was perfect, everything going to plan. He called Kate. Henry didn't want Kate dragged into this, but she needed to see what would happen. He had to warn her.

When they hugged, he nearly lunged out and tackled them to the ground. He was putting his hands on her even after Henry had been so kind as to warn him.

They were both fucking morons. She was driving him?

Kate knew he was right there. He was always there for her. That little bitch was taking advantage of him.

It had to stop. He was about to drive off after them, but his eyes traveled over to Rick's door.

He got out of the car.


	9. Running Out of Time

**Sorry x Infinity + 1 that this chapter took so long.  
School's started. So the challenge begins.  
I'll try not to make it so long next time, ey?**

**sof

* * *

**

**Chapter 9- Running Out of Time**

Alexis stepped off the L train and let the crowd carry her away, following the flow until at last she reached open air. From the stop she was only a block away from the loft, so she made the walk quickly and without wasting time.

At first the freedom was great, liberating, even. She would take her time going from place to place, enjoying the sights and the sounds and the liberty of it all. Now, after years of the lifestyle, it was nothing but normal. To school, from school, and occasional stops for lunch or coffee afterwards.

She made it to the loft in record time- she was eager to get home- Paige had asked her over, and she couldn't wait to ask her dad. She smiled to Todd, the doorman, who greeted her in his normal cheery tone.

"Morning, Ms. Castle," he said as he opened the door for her. In response she socked him lightly in the shoulder, his southern drawl adorably evident.

"Shut up, Toddy, it's Alexis. Has been for 16 years. How was your day?" She asked, stopping a moment, shifting her book bag so it didn't hurt her shoulder.

"Doin' well, darlin'," he told her, slipping out of his professional posture and the term of endearment falling with ease off his tongue. "And I've been calling you Ms. Castle for every one of those 16 years, so it don't look like that's going to change much."

Alexis just let out a little laugh. The man had lived in the city for over two decades and he managed to hold on to the accent he came with. "See you later, Toddy."

"Have a goodnight, Ms. Castle."

With those words in her wake she crossed the lobby and took the elevator to her floor. She made her way down the corridor, again shifting the heavy weight of her bag to the opposite shoulder, stopping a few feet short of the door.

Something was off.  
The door was ajar.

She titled her head a bit, concerned but intrigued, and continued to move forward.

* * *

The shrill chorus of 'Dad' pierced the dead air of the precinct. Kate Beckett was sitting atop her desk, one foot balancing her weight, carefully, and the other propped up on her chair, her knee serving as a rest for her elbow. She was staring at the whiteboard, trying to concentrate on the case they were working- a homicide-suicide that dropped that morning- when the ringtone jerked her from her thoughts.

She tore her eyes from the white that stayed in her retina a minute longer, staring blankly at the cell phone as it vibrated and cried out from its spot beside her. Castle had gone to the bathroom, and she had confiscated it earlier that day. Not that he wasn't asking for it- he had been playing Angry Birds all morning with the sound on and it took all the self-control she had to refrain from chucking it out of the window.

She continued to look at the phone. Should she answer it? It was Alexis, the ringtone was an obvious give away, but when she leaned over to look, a picture of the smiling redhead confirmed it. She wracked her memory, trying to recall a time Castle _didn't _answer a phone call from his daughter. She failed to find one.

It was this that had her reaching for the device, and she pressed a finger against the screen. "Richard Castle's phone," she answered, hesitantly.

"Hello?" It was Alexis, aright, but her voice was off- shaky.

"Alexis?" Kate asked, her voice softening. "It's Detective Beckett."

"Oh, thank god," there was this warm pang to her heart when the girl seemed relieved it was her. A very warm, very fuzzy pang. "Please, Detective," the young girl asked, no longer trying to hide what sounded like fear in her voice. "I got home, and-" she cut off, choking on the words. "Someone's been here."

* * *

Castle was nearly shoving Kate along he was in such a hurry, nudging her impatiently into the elevator, jabbing the button. He poked at it a few more times, for good measure. Worry lined his features, and Kate knew it had nothing to do with the loft. The second he saw his daughter his arms were around her. Alexis was sobbing, something about coming home, a man named Toddy and the door being open. It was such a flurry of words and tears that Kate couldn't make all of it out.

"Calm down sweetie," Castle soothed, pulling away to look at his daughter, the arm that wasn't wrapped around her small body pushing strands of reed from her hair. He kissed the top of her head, crushing her to his chest for a moment longer before realizing Kate.

Alexis caught on immediately, parting from her dad, giving them space. Castle looked at his daughter, thought about telling her to stay put in the hallway, and thought better of it, grabbing her small hand in his and pulling her into the apartment with him. Oh, she wasn't leaving his sight.

"Castle," Beckett's voice again reminded the two of her presence. "I know this is hard, but I need you to tell me if anything is missing."

They continued making their way across the loft, Kate a pace behind them. Nothing seemed out of place, everything just as he'd left it that morning.

"The study," the barely audible voice of Alexis said, releasing her dad's hand and leading the way.

The sight earned two gasps from the adults. Again, everything looked the same- neat, tidy, and in order, but in the middle of the stairwell painting behind the writing desk was a knife. Under the knife was a picture.

Upon closer observation, they both noticed the significance.

It was a picture of Alexis.

Kate swallowed, hard, struggling to maintain control of her emotions. "Castle-" she reached for him, a hand finding his arm, to find his eyes glued to the picture.

His baby girl, twelve in the picture, a yearbook photograph.  
A six inch switchblade piercing her chest.

"Castle," the hand on his arm made its way to his shoulder and she tugged, forcing him out of the picture, out of the ideas that were creeping into his head. She caught his glazed gaze with her own hardened one. "I know this is hard Castle, but I need you to tell me if anything is _missing." _

"What the hell does it matter if anything is _missing, _Kate, there is a knife through my daughter's _picture. _I think that takes precedence." His voice was alarmingly raised, taking her by surprise. She had never seen him so livid. Her experience told her this was misplaced anger, he wasn't mad at her, she knew. She told herself three times just to make sure she remembered that before she spoke again.

"Castle you can't let this get to you," he tried to pull away, dropping her gaze and turning, but she tightened her grip, forcing him to look at her. "We can't let this get to us." She held his eyes a few long moments longer before she was him visibly relax, and it was only when his stare softened on hers did she release him. His eyes wandered, examining the room.

"There was a picture," he pointed out, lamely, pointing to a bare spot on the desk. "A framed picture on the desk. It's gone."

"What picture?" She asked, switching into investigative mode without a beat.

"It was-" he stopped himself short, eyeing her, almost warily.

"What, Castle? Spit it out."

"It was a picture of us, at the precinct."

"Us?" she asked, not sure what that meant.

"Yeah, you and myself." Her eyebrows frowned for a minute, while she decided to explore that little detail later, storing it away and returning to the professional mode.

"Anything else?" She asked, hoping the moment would drop. It did.

"No, that's it."

"Okay." She looked from one Castle to the other, her heart breaking at the sight of their worried faces. "Don't touch anything, I'm gonna call Ryan, have CSU over here to look for anything." They both nodded and before she even finished talking, she had her phone open and dialing.

* * *

The crime scene unit was making its way in and out of the loft, carrying kits and evidence bags and working away in the office and the front door, searching for any useable prints. Esposito had pulled Alexis aside into the dining room, with a promise to both Castle and Beckett that he would be easy on the girl, to get a statement.

This left Beckett and Castle in the kitchen.

_How had they end up here?_ Kate asked herself. She was resting against the sink, one arm across her chest and her other hand balancing a coffee cup against it. Leaning against the counter adjacent to her was Castle. His arms were crossed across his chest in a classic defensive maneuver. Kate knew it well, often by practice.

He was holding himself together.

_You know exactly how you ended up here,_ she told herself. She let Castle in and now he was neck deep in her problem. She did this. She shouldn't have let him help, shouldn't have let him get so involved.

"Castle," she spoke, breaking the long silence that they sat in.

"Hmm?" he hummed, his eyes glazed over in a far-away look that told him he was nowhere near earth, let alone this conversation.

"You're off the case." His blue eyes finally met hers, and the flash they flickered with told her that he had very much come back to the present, with a jolting crash.

"What?"

"You heard me." She hated herself for the words even as she spoke them, but she hated the situation she had caused even more. "You're out."

"No, I'm not," he told her, in disbelief. "Not after all this."

"All _this," _she told him, her voice elevating the slightest bit. "All this is on me. My watch. A damn _watch._" She set down her coffee cup rather abruptly. "It's not worth all this."

"That may be," he told her, and it wasn't what she wanted to hear, but she was glad he wouldn't fight her. "But you are."

She was silent for a minute, not expecting _that. _It was with a carefully measured voice did she speak again. "No I'm not, Castle. Nothing is worth this. Alexis is terrified, you're terrified, hell I'm terrified. This over _my _problem. _My _issue. You don't need this. Any of it. And don't you _dare _say you need me."

He bit his lip, and she knew she stole his comeback. He closed his eyes, forcing himself to remain calm. "Like it or not Kate, I do. And like it or not, I'm involved. I don't like it either, but so is Alexis. Kicking me out, pushing me away- it's not going to change the fact that some psycho is after some sort of vengeance." He forced his voice down to a normal level.

"This stopped being about a watch days ago." When she said nothing, he dropped his stance, reaching out for her arm, his hand finding it as hers did his before. "I can't save much, Kate. I can't save the world, I can't save myself- hell, I can't save fifteen percent or more on my car insurance by switching to Geico. But I will be damned if I can't save you."

She looked from the deep pools of his eyes, searching them for any tells, and upon finding none, her eyes wandered past him, to where Alexis was talking to Esposito.

It was then her mind was made up, and she met Castle's gaze again, nodding an almost imperceptible nod.

* * *

**Some heavy stuff in here- I hope I got it all okay.  
I hope.**

**Anyways Emily-phalanges-by-the-divisor-cubed-minus-five is going to blow us all away with the next installment, and I don't think she will make you wait as long as I did to do it, so lookout for it, yeah?**

**Oh, and Review, in case you forgot the drill.  
Please. :) **

**sof**


	10. Killing Time

**Softer, it's good for me too. Very.**

**Move along, you peeping Toms. Nothing to see here. Do stick around for the next chapter, though. She's going to blow it out of the water yet again. I think the last chapter was my favorite. Just WOW. Anyway, here you go.

* * *

**

The only barrier between Henry and her apartment was a door, and he was quick to get it the hell out of the way. She'd locked it, but the lock didn't apply to him. This was his woman, which made this his apartment by proxy.

He swung the door open and shut it behind himself, revealing his Kate's home. Her couch was the first thing he saw. There was a throw blanket hanging off the back and a book lying open on the coffee table.

A book written by Richard Castle. There was a bookshelf full of them between the kitchen and living room. His jacket rested on a nearby chair, and her message machine was beeping.

He pressed play, listening to Lanie talk about someone she called "writer-boy" and a case Henry knew nothing about.

Everywhere he looked, there were two things present: something to do with Castle, and evidence that Kate didn't spend much time in her own apartment. She was always working a case with _him_ or reading a book written by _him_.

His filth was invading every aspect of her life, and she was too stupid to notice. Henry had to help clean it up. She would appreciate him once the grime had been washed away.

With that goal in mind, he worked his way through the first two rooms, making a mental note of anything Castle-related. He looked past the TV and a pillow caught his eye.

Her room. Henry's pace quickened as he walked over to it. He stared at the unmade bed a moment before going over to her closet to check for the inappropriate clothing he'd been seeing. His hands were clammy; her scent was overwhelming, filling him up to the point where everything was blurred with pleasure and lust.

The front door opened with a click. He spun in surprise, knocking a shirt off the hanger. It fell to the floor without a noise.

He climbed over it and hid in the shadows, just like always.

* * *

Beckett walked through the door and over to the coffee table, slinging her keys onto it and pressing play on the answering machine without even checking if there were any new messages.

"You have no new messages. First skipped message," the machine told her. Kate gave it a strange look when Lanie's voice started immediately, words rushing out with hardly a breath between them.

She didn't remember listening to that before. Damn machine was getting old.

She deleted the message before it was over and fished her cell phone out of her pocket, dialing the medical examiner.

"Lanie, you called?" Beckett slipped her shoes off and slid them out of the way, heading to the kitchen and getting some ice cream out of the freezer.

Henry was still crouched behind her clothes, letting them brush against his flushed skin as he listened in on her half of the conversation.

"I was just at Castle's. Someone was in his apartment. They stabbed a picture of Alexis and stole a picture of Castle and me." She paused, digging into the ice cream with a spoon and letting her toes curl against the tiles, the relaxed movement completely opposite to her tense words.

"I don't know why he had a picture of-" She rolled her eyes, Lanie obviously talking over her. "That's really not the point. His car was majorly vandalized, and now this psycho is taking it up a notch."

Henry recoiled, knocking the hangers together. Her head snapped in his direction. She put the carton down, quietly walking forward and nodding into the phone as if Lanie could see her.

"Lanie, I'm going to have to call you back. I just walked in the door. It's been a long day. Yeah, give me an hour." She rolled her eyes again and let them settle on her bedroom door. "I promise. You don't need to call in the cavalry. Bye."

Beckett clicked the phone off and set it down gently, retrieving her gun from its holster and holding it up halfway in preparation as she made her way to her room.

"Hello?" she called out.

Henry felt his throat go dry. She was getting so close he could almost feel her against him. His eyes closed involuntarily for a moment.

Then she was only a few feet from the closet, and her whole body was _right there_, and he stepped forward. She didn't notice at first. Castle was too much of a distraction. Henry was standing in the same room as her, but Castle was the only thing she could ever see.

"I thought you were smart, Kate? Don't you ever learn?"

She turned and finally saw him.


	11. Just in Time

**So sorry this took so long, my dears.  
School took over my life, and I used this brief moment of pause to breath.  
This is my version of breathing fresh air. **

**Please forgive me.

* * *

**

Castle was sitting at the kitchen bar, both hands circling the coffee cup that sat on the counter in front of him. It was cold now, forgotten as he stared off into space, lost in thought. It was only the sound of the fridge opening that jarred him back to reality. He saw the red head poke her head out, and he opened his mouth, the words he had been contemplating for the past hour refusing to pour out.

"Alexis," he asked, slowly as if he were saying her name for the first time, acquiring a taste for the pronunciation.

"Yeah, Dad?" She asked, reaching into the cupboard above the stove for a cup, standing on her toes to reach it before sinking back down to her normal height.

Castle swallowed. "Are you okay?"

Her face changed from confusion to realization in a half a beat, and then rested at last on understanding. "Dad," her voice slipped into sympathy. She left the bottle of orange juice and cup on the counter to make her way around it, so she could hop onto a stool beside her father. She grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to face her.

"Are you?" She asked him, concern filling her eyes and a new level of maturity rising out of her he had yet to see. He let out a defeated sigh.

"Yes," he told her, and then after another moment, "No… I don't know. He pulled her hands in his. "How do you feel? About all of it?"

She seemed to consider this a moment. "I'm shaken up. We are all a bit shaken up. But you did the right thing" She said, refusing to avert her gaze, answering the question he didn't have to ask aloud. "And I think in the end this is going to bring us closer together." She added as an afterthought.

He stared at his daughter a moment longer, reading the honesty on her. He nodded, slowly. That, after all, was what he was getting at in the first place. "You're a hopeless romantic, you are," he stated, and the smile he was hoping for spread wide across her face. In response, she just wrapped him in a hug. "No, seriously, when did you get so wise?"

"Must be my something on my Dad's side." She responded, earning a kiss to the head. "I'm going to go upstairs and finish my anatomy homework," she told him, parting from his hold.

"All this and you're thinking about Anatomy homework?" He asked as she walked away. "Must be something on your Mother's side."

Martha sat on the couch, watching her son. He was on the chair juxtaposed to her, laptop resting on his knees. She lifted the wine glass to her lips, pretending to be completely lost in her book. She snuck glances over the same page she'd been 'reading' for the past twenty minutes, watching him.

He wasn't typing, he was just staring. Watching the cursor blink on a barren white page. Mocking him.

"You did the right thing, Richard," she spoke, when she could stand to stay silent no longer. He looked over the computer screen, pretending to just notice her presence.

"What?"

"You did the right thing, standing by her."

"I thought you said that she could take care of herself?" He asked her, knowing the dumb routine wouldn't play out well. Instead he let out a vulnerable little sigh.

"Doesn't mean she always has to," Martha told him. "It's time she knew that."

He seemed to consider her words, and she could practically sink into his brain as he processed. "Go see her," She commanded, bossily.

"What? No, Mother."

"Stop pretending you can write and go see her. You have a family to keep you from going mad. She shouldn't be alone right now."

He didn't even try to fight those words. "You and Alexis-" he began, which she cut off with a wave of the hand.

"We are going to be fine. You and I both know it's Kate that this guy wants, not us." The thought still made him outrageously nauseous, but the fact still stood that his mother was right.

It was then he set his computer down, grabbing his coat. "I will be home soon," he assured her, to which she lifted her now near-empty glass.

* * *

Castle drummed his fingers against the cardboard box he was holding in his hands. God, this elevator was slow as all hell. He watched impatiently as the lights above the door changed from one number to another, signaling his arrival at her floor. He had stopped by Bistro 60 and got her favorite Tortellini dish to go, the key to passage in her home. He smiled briefly as he remembered the first time he'd rushed to her apartment, food in hand.

_She opened the door a small crack, eyeing him suspiciously. "Castle?" she asked, surprised by his late night visit. He held up the box of pizza, almost like a peace offering. In a way, it was._

"_Brooklyn style, just the way you like it," he greeted back, and he didn't know if it was the look on his face or the aroma of the food, but she was unchaining her door and opening it to him. "You know, some women like chocolate or jewelry, but you- the key to your affections is food."_

"_I wouldn't say no to chocolate or jewelry," she told him, snatching up the box as soon as he was in the door. "But a slice of Dominick's will do the trick tonight." She nodded towards the kitchen as she plopped down on the couch with the box. "Beer's in the fridge."_

Castle was hoping tonight would play out just as well. Kate Beckett wouldn't refuse the four cheese- stuffed pasta he held, no way. He made his way down her hall, to her door. He had been here many times before, but not like this. This wasn't about a case, it wasn't about work or the boys or his book. To a certain degree it was about Alexis, but mostly it was about them.

Her.  
Him.  
He needed to see her for him.

He didn't know what he'd say when she opened the door, or what he'd do. He didn't know how to explain, or what kind of answers she would demand. None, he was hoping. He went to knock but paused for a brief second. Voices. He heard voices on the other side of the door.

Angry ones.

_Maybe it was the TV. _He told himself. _Nonsense. Does Beckett even watch TV? Own one? _

He gulped, knocking on the door.  
Immediately the angry voices stopped.

Silence.

Silence.  
Hard Silence.

_Crash_.

Without a second of hesitation or thought, Castle's phone was to his ear and Esposito had answered. "Sup, bro?"

"I'm at Kate's- Angry shouting, and then I knocked, and then I heard something break inside."

Esposito didn't ask him to repeat the message- the left out words were unnecessary. "Castle, I'm on my way with Ryan- Stay where you are until we get there."

Castle's voice was still surprisingly calm when he spoke again. "Esposito you better be making your way up the stairs of her building if you think for a second I'm waiting to go in there," he told the detective.

"Castle, don't do anything stu-" But Castle cut off the call, leaving his phone and the pasta forgotten on the floor.

And with a deep breath and a millisecond of self-preparation for the intense pain to come, he charged at Kate Beckett's door.

* * *

**Enough dancing around the climax, eh?  
I don't think Em will make you wait as long as I did.  
I hope not- I can't wait to find out what happens next, either.**

**softer OUT. **


	12. Once Upon a Time

**Scarlet Royal's Castle: I hope your birthday was as fabulous as you are. Enjoy this chapter and expect more updates just for and I haven't planned the next chapter yet, but she's kind of genius, so I know already that it'll be incredible.**

* * *

Walking from the doorway of a hospital room to a bed only ten feet away would normally be something Beckett wouldn't even have to think about in order to do, but her hip was sore and throbbing. What should have taken seconds felt like it took minutes.

She readjusted her scrub pants so they wouldn't rub against the wound, and Castle's eyes flickered open in time to catch a flash of a white bandage hiding under the matching top.

He wanted to reach out and grab her hand, but it was hard enough just keeping the room from going blurry. Why was she hurt?

Attempting to shift in bed to get a better look, he came up with a better question: why the hell is _he_ in so much pain?

She smiled at him warmly, but he could see how uncomfortable she was. It was all she could do not to fidget every few seconds in the hospital chair at his bedside.

"Hey, Castle." She wanted to joke and tell him he looked like hell, but it was too true to kid about.

His head was wrapped in a bandage resembling the one on her hip, and his otherwise bare chest sported more of the white gauze. Deep scratches spanned from his cheeks to his wrist and back, and there were a few light red bruises on his cheekbone and chest.

He looked much worse than she did, and the guilt burned a hole in her windpipe.

Guilt stemming from his injuries on her behalf? Yes. Mostly it was because she was so relieved and grateful that he'd shown up and saved her at the price of his own well-being.

She cleared her throat and stared off into space, unsure of what to say. Half of her wanted to thank him, and the other half wanted to apologize.

As always, her eyes were the clearest indicators of what she was feeling. Castle picked up on it better than anyone else.

"Beckett, what happened?" he croaked. She handed him a glass of water and guided the straw into his mouth. Sitting up without experiencing major pain wouldn't be an option for a few more days.

"You fell onto a glass table. Hard. You have two fractured ribs and a grade three concussion. You've been here two days, going in and out of consciousness. You should be able to leave later tonight." She used technical terms and repeated what she'd been told, eyes roaming over his wounded body.

"I kind of guessed that much, but what happened to get us here?"

Kate gave him a small, insincere smile. "I'm here for moral support, mostly. I'll be back at work in no time at all."

He just looked at her in disbelief, not buying the smile. "Kate."

She sighed. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"Bursting through the door. That would explain why my shoulder hurts," he said, more to himself than to her.

Her first instinct was to smile, but vivid images of the attack were rapidly passing before her eyes. She suppressed a wince.

_A blur of metal; instincts kicked in. Beckett grabbed his wrist, spinning his arm behind his back. A split second of fumbling to keep it away from her was all he needed to jab._

_ She crumbled to the ground, grasping onto his leg and yanking. He stumbled, but stayed upright, holding onto an end table and jarring it. A lamp fell._

_ Then the door caved in._

"I was on the ground, bleeding a little. His knife didn't get far."

Castle's gasp stopped her. The sharp breath rattled his fractured ribs, and the pain made him choke. He started coughing violently, face contorted in agony.

Beckett jumped up from the chair, hands at the ready to help, but she couldn't decide where the safest place to put them would be. He was writhing in pain, unable to stop the movements that were causing torrents of sharp aches.

She quickly placed her hands on his face, forcing him to look at her. "Take a breath, Castle. I'm okay." He did as he was told, taking in a deep breath and immediately regretting it. "Not too deep. There you go."

He stared into her eyes, focused on the bags under them and how she strained to keep from falling over.

The second the monitor stopped beeping wildly, she sat back down in her chair, keeping her eyes shut for a few long moments.

"I'm fine. I could leave if I wanted to, but I thought you might want some company." She ground her teeth together and opened her eyes, revealing unshed tears.

"As I was saying, I was on the ground. You came in and tackled Henry onto my glass coffee table. You hit your head when you fell, along with your ribs."

_There was so much blood, and she wasn't sure if the crunching sound was from breaking glass or breaking bones. She could see the red liquid spreading, unable to move as it approached her. _

_ One person couldn't possibly contain that much blood. That bastard better be bleeding, too._

_ Her own pool of blood rushed to meet theirs._

"Henry?" Castle asked.

"That's his name: Henry Agnew. His prints were in the system."

Rick nodded slightly and rested his head, closing his eyes in an attempt to visualize what she was telling him.

"He was standing over you. I couldn't get up. I tried, but I just-" Her eyes glassed over again, and she had to stop for a second.

_Beckett was only aware of a searing pain in her hip and a wet trail of blood slowly being absorbed into the fabric of her pants. She struggled to stand, but she slipped; the glass and blood not giving her enough traction. _

_ Her stalker stood over her partner with the same knife he'd just stabbed her with. It was stained, poised in the air for another blow. _

"Esposito and Ryan came in before anything else happened. The paramedics were right behind them. You were lucky."

Castle summoned what energy he had left after the coughing fit and reached out his hand, which she gave an odd look.

"Please come here." His fingers curled, leaving just enough space for hers.

She took his hand and stood up, not hiding her wince this time. Somehow, showing the pain made it easier to deal with.

With two fingers, he lifted her scrub top, revealing the bandage. "Tell me what happened again, and don't skimp on the details."


	13. The Time Has Come

**First, I believe I need to apologize for taking so long on this one.  
Second, and probably most importantly, I need to warn you, this chapter is not suitable for those under the age of 17.  
That's right- smut, people. Lots of it. You have now been warned, in bold letters, as if the rating and the title weren't clue enough. M rating is well deserved here. (I did try to keep it tasteful, so it's nothing too graphic).**

**Thirdly, and actually really the most important thing, I love phalangesbyfive. Her chapter was everything I had imagined to could be and more.  
Fourthly, please read and review- they are much appreciated.  
Fifthly, I just needed five. A list of four was incomplete, and just wouldn't do. Five is such a great number. Moving on. **

**

* * *

**Weeks. It had been weeks. Three, to be exact.

Three weeks, and Castle was still lying around the loft.

He was sprawled out on the living room couch, propped on his elbows, his laptop glowing in front of him. An electronic, blank piece of paper glared back at him, the black cursor blinking at him, tauntingly. Cabin fever had set in days ago, and he hadn't been able to write a word since. He was going mad.

He tried going back to the precinct, but the pain in his sides had been far too much to handle, and he was forced back into the solitude of the loft.

He had seen Beckett every night for all three of these weeks- ever since he was released from the hospital. She would come over with take out or a movie or both, charging right into his house without invitation and sitting herself down on the couch.

He didn't really question this new development- mostly because he was afraid she would stop visiting altogether, but she was there, nine pm on the dot, every night. Since then they had watched all five Harry Potters, the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy, and a quite a few classics.

As time progressed and her visits continued, he began to realize what it was all about, and when he did, no matter what the consequence, he could no longer stay silent.

After the accident, as he began to refer to it as, she had grown very touchy. Not touchy as in tempered, but touchy as in she always had an excuse to be physically near him. Maybe a touch on the shoulder, a distinctly protective stance in front of him, or her breath on his neck when she looked over his shoulder.

She felt responsible.

3:30 came and went, along with Alexis, it being a Friday night. Seven came, he skipped dinner, instead grabbing a back of pretzels and juice. It was all he felt like. Then came nine. A soft knock came at the door, just as he had anticipated.

She stood, a handful of DVD's in one hand and a Styrofoam container in the other. She had clearly just left the precinct- with her coat atop one of her more professional blouses and a skirt he had never seen before.

"I got you Italian, because pretzels doesn't constitute as a meal," she greeted, handing him the box and brushing past him as she entered the loft.

"How did you-"

"Crumbs on your shirt," she informed him, as if were obvious.

He just nodded and accepted the box, digging around in the kitchen for a fork. He watched from the kitchen as she gently moved his laptop from the couch, tossing the blanket he had been rolled up in earlier over the back of it. She fixed up the cushions and the pillows, taking time to tidy up before she flipped through the pile of DVD's and pulled one out.

"How was court?" Castle asked her, at last finding a fork and joining her on the couch.

"How did you-

"You only wear skirts on court days," he told her as if were obvious.

"Right." She grabbed the fork from his hand, using the utensil to snag a bite of the pasta from the Styrofoam container he balanced in his other hand.

"Hey," he warned, snatching the fork right from her mouth. Kate only smiled mischievously in return, chewing her prize happily. He took a bite as well, and relaxed into the couch as she relaxed into him.

She snuggled right up into his side, gently, as if she were still afraid to hurt him. "What are we watching?" Castle inquired, as the FBI warnings started to roll on the screen. The black and white MGM lion roaring told him it was another classic.

"Gentleman's Agreement," she responded, accepting the fork he offered and helping herself to the food before handing it back.

"You and your Gregory Peck movies," he ribbed, earning a light chuckle.

"Well, he _is _ruggedly handsome."

"Ouch, my ego," he clutched his heart with the hand not holding the box of food. A silence passed, and the movie began to play on the screen. It wasn't until a good 30 minutes later that he worked up the courage to speak.

"You feel guilty, don't you?" he asked her, his voice a mere hushed breath, hot against her temple.

"Excuse me?" she looked up at him, confusion on display in her brow.

"You feel guilty about what happened," he said again, this time not a question. He watched as confusion left her face and realization took its place in her big green eyes. After another heavy moment, she opened her mouth to speak, but he surprised even himself by cutting her off.

"You shouldn't. Esposito told me to wait outside, and I didn't listen." The movie kept on in the background, but was by then completely forgotten. "And Kate if I had to do it over, I wouldn't have done a damn thing different. I meant what I said. You are worth it- all of it."

"Castle, I-" But again, he didn't give her time to finish.

"I know I can be dumb and reckless and flippant sometimes, but I'm not right now- I did the right thing going in there after you. You are my partner, Kate."

She took a moment to take all this in. "Castle," she began, making sure he was going to let her finish. "Henry was my stalker. _My _problem. You shouldn't have been involved, Alexis shouldn't have been put in harm's way, and you sure as hell shouldn't be quarantined to mandatory bed rest."

"I'm not sorry I was there for you, Kate. I'm not sorry that I went looking for your watch, I'm not sorry about helping you through this, and I sure as hell am not sorry I came by your apartment that night."

"I know," she replied, quietly. "Neither am I. I am so selfishly glad for it, and that's why I'm so _pissed." _She looked at him. "This is all so confusing."

"And yet," Castle replied. "All the songs make perfect sense." He had barely gotten the words out before her lips were touching his.

Tentative, at first.  
Slow.

The hand that had come to rest on his chest was snaking upwards, tangling with his hair as she pulled him tighter to her. God, had she wanted to do that for a long time. She was floored by the emotion conveyed in the kiss- and suddenly, she couldn't get enough of it.

One moment they were both sitting upright and the next she was lying flat on the couch, his arm beside her head holding his weight as his lips fastened to hers. They were both desperate for air but neither cared much, too wrapped up to worry about such trivial things as oxygen.

God, she felt so good. The hand that wasn't holding him up rested on her hip, though not still for long. He pushed up the hem of her blouse, his hands surprisingly steady and his touch gentle, despite the fierce way they were kissing.

_Did she just bite me?_

He hadn't even realized the hand tugging at his shirt, nimble fingers unfastening the buttons, until she was pushing it off his bare shoulders, breaking away from his mouth only to trail her tongue down his neck to his exposed collar bone.

Frustrated with the buttons on her blouse he yanked, too desperate to taste more of her to worry about being a gentleman. Buttons bounced off the hard wood floor with little happy 'tings,' falling some place never to be found again.

"Mmmmf," he grunted, when she caught his bottom lip between her teeth again. "Kate," he finally gasped, gently pushing her shoulders so she was lying flat beneath him. Immediately he missed the warmth only her body against his could create, but he forced the head on his shoulders to do the thinking.

He got a clear look at her this way, her blouse open to just above her navel, a simple, black cotton bra now plainly displayed. The way it contrasted to her pale skin earned another south bound river of blood straight to his groin, but he forced himself to look up, at her face.

Not that her face was much less arousing. Her hands were above her head where he pinned them in attempts to slow down, and the way her neck craned just begged to be touched. When blue caught green he could see the want, there, too. Need. Emotions flashed through them so fast he could barely keep up. Confusion, at first, then hurt, then realization, followed by worry.

"Are you okay?" her hand broke free to touch his bare stomach, resting tenderly on his ribs. "Did I hurt you?"

"What?" he asked, his turn to be confused. "No, no," he assured her. "I'm fine I just wanted to make sure-" he broke off, afraid of the wrong words ruining the moment. "This isn't some weird PTSD emotional comfort grieving thing, is it?"

The hand she placed on his ribs was moving up his chest to his neck, and then to his face, and he visibly shivered, and she bit her lip in that cute way she did. "No," she told him, shaking her head almost imperceptivity. "I want this." Her thumb brushed his cheek, and he turned his face into her hand, placing a light kiss to her palm. "And the fact that you were so concerned about your own intentions only makes me want you a little more."

"You've got me," he told her, a light humor in his voice.

"Was that a line?"

"Can I take you to the bedroom?" he asked, and she would have rolled her eyes if she thought he was teasing for one second. Instead, she only nodded.

"Yes," she breathed.

He stood and helped her up as well, but it was she who led him through the study and into his room, walking backwards as she pulled him along, both his hands clasped in hers. Along the way her shirt fell to the floor, forgotten, and he watched her with wide eyes. She didn't stop when she reached the bed, her knees hitting the back of it, and she fell backwards, taking him with her.

Her mouth latched on to his like he was her source of oxygen, her arms snaking around his neck just as his slid around her waist. Both of his hands were splayed flat on her back, and she wasn't sure if she could get any closer to him.

She angled her hips, using serious upper body strength to roll them over so she was straddling his waist. Again she found the place she so liked on his collar bone, tracing along it to the hollow where his throat met his chest.

His hand was moving up and down her spine, but when she found that spot bellow his Addams Apple, he gasped a little, and his fingers tugged at the back clasp of her bra. He tossed the garment away, where it would surely be joined by the clothes they had yet to divest themselves of.

_They were still wearing clothes? Why? _Just as Castle thought this, Kate must have as well because she tugged at the button of his jeans, impatiently. Rick only chuckled, quietly, and his large hand covered her small one as it fought with the button, stilling her frantic efforts. He unsecured it himself and she lifted herself off of him only long enough for him to shimmy out of them.

He took her by surprise, though, taking her moment of pause to flip them.

She fell onto the bed beneath them with a small gasp, and he took a moment to look at her. God, she was beautiful. Just then the world slowed to a thirty three and a third, and they both felt the change in the mood.

He lowered, kissing her lips first. He had never kissed anyone like he was now- he had never wanted to kiss someone for so long. God, he wanted to breathe her _air._

His lips trailed across her cheek, lightly, then down her neck, placing a stray kiss every so often. He continued his journey down her chest, just ghosting past her breasts before trailing the flat plane of her stomach with his tongue. He came to her hips, and at that, the scar.

It had healed over- now it was just a thin little pink ridge on her otherwise flawless skin. It was maybe two inches long, mirroring the size of the blade that inflicted it, right above her pubic bone. It wasn't the first time he had seen it, no- after much questioning she finally caved in and showed him what Henry had done to her- but this time it was far more intimate, and far, far more painful to see.

He bent his head down again, placing a very light kiss there, earning a sharp intake of air from the woman beneath him. "What?" he jerked his head upwards, alert, and it was the first words spoken for quite some time. "Did that hurt?"

"No," she said, her breath heavy and shaky in anticipation. "I'm just ticklish." He grinned at that, keeping the eye contact as nimble fingers found the zipper of her skirt. She watched him like a hawk, refusing to look away while he slowly slid the fabric down, his fingers hooking on to her cotton underwear and taking them with it.

Once she was free of the clothes she used her legs, wrapping them around his waist and pulling him back to her. His hand rest on her ankle and slid all the way up to her thigh, positioning them both so they were aligned.

He planted his mouth first on her chin and then the bare corner of her lips before capturing them with his. His tongue slid effortlessly into her mouth and in the same motion his body followed example, forcing them to break away momentarily, both floored by the sensation.

"Don't let me hurt you," she murmured into his ear, knowing full well the extent of the bruises that still stained his stomach. He kissed her again, gently.

"You couldn't," he told her. Truth was, his sides were on fire, but like hell if he was going to stop now. His forehead was resting on the pillow right beside her ear, biting lightly into her shoulder as their bodies rocked together. Her fingers worked up his nape and into his hair other fingers scratching lightly up and down his back, encouragingly. Slowly.

How he wanted to please her- how he wanted to make her scream his name. The tiger was in there, this he knew, but tonight wasn't about any of that.

Tonight he wanted to make her fall apart in his arms, and he wanted to do it slowly.

The time for hurried and frenzied- that was not now.  
Now, they were alive and they had all the time in the world.

* * *

_S_


	14. Time Heals All Wounds

**Hi hi. This is my last chapter in this story. Softer is going to kill the ending, and you're all in for an awesome sequel. We're really excited. She's the best to collaborate with :D Anyway, the name of the sequel will be "Burden of Proof". Enjoy!**

* * *

After watching her work for two years, watching her sleep was just the natural progression of things. She was peaceful, and the sheets wrapped lightly around her body hid the scar that made his heart stop in the worst way.

Castle hated that she was wounded, but physicality was an accepted part of the job. There was always a threat of danger, and he'd come to terms with it a long time ago – not that it stopped him from worrying.

He knew Beckett could handle any punch thrown at her, and he knew she was the strong one; she would protect them both.

The metaphorical walls she built around herself only worked to a certain point, though. It was hard to gain her trust and easy to lose it. The fact that he was still allowed within ten feet of her was saying something about how far she'd come.

Now, her watch was gone. The object itself wasn't important, but what it represented was huge.

He could tell she wished it didn't bother her as much as it did. He could tell a lot about what she was feeling these days.

Guilt, anger, shame, and fear were all constantly flashing in her eyes. He treasured the moments when he made her laugh, for it seemed that was the only way to be rid of her constant worry, if only for a second.

Sleep also seemed to work. Kate snored softly, almost like a purr, with her hands clutching the pillow for dear life.

Castle reached out and slowly pulled her hand away from the pillow, looping their fingers together. She responded to the pressure and held his hand tighter, her eyes opening slightly.

The worry flew back to them the instant her lids opened.

Then he smiled and pulled her close, kissing her forehead and rubbing circles across her bare back. She smiled too, and it reached her eyes.

The smile grew to a soft laugh, which he questioned.

"Last night, the last thing I remember thinking is 'Castle's going to watch me sleep'. You're predictable," she responded, laughing a bit louder.

He kissed her forehead, his heart fluttering at the sound. "Really? Because my last thoughts were more along the line of-"

She shoved him before he could finish, immediately pulling him back to her. "Incorrigible," she muttered, not even attempting to sound disgusted.

Castle brushed his lips against hers, both of them grinning at the familiarity of the sensation.

He didn't pull away. His hands were entwined in her hair, and his legs trapped her to him. Kate let her fingers drop to his stomach on a path leading further south, but she stopped when he flinched. Looking down, she saw her hand resting on a light bruise.

Realizing how much pain last night must have caused him, she pulled her hand away and propped herself up on her elbow. "Are you okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?" Her eyes roamed over his body in anxiety rather than lust.

There it was again: the worry. Only conscious five minutes and something had her on edge. He reached for her hand and placed it lightly back on the bruise, his face stoically keeping any emotion from showing.

"I'm fine." Simple and short, but those were the two words she needed to hear before she dropped her ear to his chest, content to listen to his heartbeat.

"Would it be overly cliché if I made you breakfast in bed?" He could feel rather than see her smile. "Because I make a mean omelet. You won't be able to resist me once you taste it."

Pulling herself up to meet his eyes, she raised a brow. "I don't know, Castle; you're pretty irresistible as it is. I don't think that'd be fair."

He looked around frantically for a moment before turning back to her, his face a display of shock. "Where are the cameras? You lost a bet, didn't you?"

She rolled her eyes and pulled the sheet tighter around herself. "I'll take that breakfast in the kitchen."

* * *

"Tada," he exclaimed, presenting her with a plateful of eggs and bacon. A piece of toast dangled dangerously close to the edge, and she snatched it before it could fall, taking a quick bite.

Her hair was back in a loose ponytail now, and she was wearing Castle's button-up shirt. He could only stare when she exited the bedroom wearing it, and it was no different while he cooked. It was a miracle the food came out unburned.

She flashed him a smile and patted the seat next to her at the table, not waiting for him to dig in. Taking a bite, she closed her eyes and moaned her appreciation.

When she opened them, a small box was sitting by her plate. Castle pretended he hadn't put it there and kept eating innocently.

Curiosity overpowering her nerves, she opened it with a gasp.

Inside sat a simple silver bracelet with one charm: a raven. She picked it up and held it closer, examining it with the intensity she reserved for suspects in interrogation.

"All right, I confess," Castle said in a squeaky voice, as if he were the charm bracelet. He slammed his fist down. "Damn, you're good."

She chuckled and placed it back in the case, but left the lid open. "What's that for?"

He only looked hurt for a second before leaning forward in his chair. "You lost a watch, Kate. I know it's important to you, and I can understand that. What that psycho didn't take from you was your father's sobriety.

In any case, I thought you might want something else to wear on your wrist. I don't want to replace your dad's watch; that's not what this is at all."

She sat in a stunned silence for a minute, her eyes going from Castle back to the unassuming raven. "Why a raven?" She would ask anything to put off accepting it. It felt wrong, even with the promise that it wasn't a replacement.

This is the question he'd been preparing to answer, though it made his palms sweat to think about it. He called upon the memory he'd much rather forget and focused on Kate's face as he began to share.

"A raven to represent me, because you've saved my life on numerous occasions. I've been obsessed with death since I was eight, but you make me see it differently."

She picked up the bracelet again and held it. "Eight?"

_Just take the plunge._ "Mother used to take me to her plays when I was too young to be home alone for too long. I would sit backstage for the more adult ones, which most of them were.

When I was eight, she had a small role in Hamlet. I was told to stay in the dressing room until it was over, but my attention span was even worse then, if you can believe it, and that's a long play."

He ate more of his breakfast, encouraging her to do the same, while he thought on how to proceed. It was hard to swallow over the lump in his throat.

"You didn't listen," Kate prompted him.

"Not surprising, right?" He laughed half-heartedly. "I ventured out to the prop room. I'd done it before. I didn't think anything bad could come of it as long as Martha never found out."

His eyes clenched shut, and his body tensed.

"I was playing with an empty goblet, pretending I was drinking wine. I heard someone approaching, so I hid in the costumes and waited for them to leave. At the time, all I could do was hope it wasn't Martha. I didn't think it could be worse."

Kate's throat started to go dry, a feeling of dread settling in her stomach. Her mind spun wild stories of what could have happened to him and it was absolutely sickening.

"One of the actors had slipped back there. He opened a white cloth and removed a knife, putting the prop one in its place."

Her eyes went wide, but she resisted the urge to hold him. Not yet. It would end the story before he could finish.

"When he left, I went back to the dressing room and waited for another hour for Mother to come. I didn't move an inch; I had no idea what to do. Part of me thought I was imagining it, I guess."

He didn't have to finish. "It wasn't your fault. You were young, and nobody would blame you." Kate moved to sit in his lap, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

And there they sat, baring their scars and holding back their tears, drawing strength from the trust that finally shared without doubts.

He pressed his forehead to hers and sighed. "I know, but rationalizing only helps to a certain extent."

Rick looked at her and took the bracelet from her hand. "You don't have to wear it, but I wanted you to know that you've changed me. Since that's what the watch represented, I thought it'd be appropriate."

She took it back from him with a smile. "Thank you."


	15. A Stitch in Time Saves Nine

_In time, all good things must come to an end. _  
_Thank god someone created sequels!_

_I cannot speak for phalangesbyfive, but one of the best parts (other than collaborating with my best friend and fondest partner, that is,) was the chapter titles._

_Anyways, enjoy this final installment to what I fondly refer to as **the timeline**.  
_Sof

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**A Stitch in Time Saves Nine**

"I love this part." It was well into the evening- the sun had just but fallen and the normal traffic of the precinct had thinned so it was only occupied by a few people. Castle sank into his chair, slowly, relishing the feeling of being off his feet. Beckett sat at her desk beside him, stretching her legs beneath the wooden structure.

"What part is that?" she asked him, absent-mindedly. In all honesty, all she could think about was sleeping. Forget the bath, forget the hot post-case sex, forget a warm meal. She just wanted to fall into bed with the man beside her and sleep, and that was exactly what she was going to do once she got this paperwork squared away.

"The part right after we've just closed a case. The precinct is all but empty, the night settling in. You- you look like you have a huge weight off your shoulders and I- I get to take you home." She looked at him with the last words, a small smile tugging at her lips. His eyes flicked down to her hand as it rested on the desk, and he desperately wanted to touch it. He settled for admiring the way the silver bracelet fell around her wrist, neatly, as it were crafted with her in mind.

It had been months since they had apprehended Henry, and months since she started wearing the bracelet he gifted her. Two months and 17 days.

Not that he was counting or anything.

She noticed the direction of his gaze and felt a light blush rise in her face. His eyes rose back to her face again, and he couldn't help but smile at the shy way she hid behind a curtain of hazelnut hair.

The way she looked at him never ceased to astound him. She could say 'I'm going to murder you for embarrassing me in public' and 'I want you in a bad way, now' all in the same, heated look. He had no doubt in his mind about what would happen tonight.

They would go to his apartment, she would demand a shower, alone so she could actually _shower, _then they would crawl into pajama's, he would force her to eat something, and after a long battle she didn't care to fight, she would relent and eat the pancakes he served her. After he cleared away the plates he would return to find her fast asleep on his side of the bed.

And he could not wait.

"Much paperwork?" he asked her, too tired himself to muster up more words than strictly necessary.

"Fair amount," she turned to look at him, sadly. He didn't need to be here, and he looked dead on his feet. "How about you go, get a head start on the pancakes?" she asked him, and it was as if she read his mind.

"I was actually going to mix it up and go with waffles," he told her, with false willfulness.

"I like my pancakes," she admitted, honestly.

"Well I like staying here with you while you do your paperwork."

"What on earth will Alexis do for dinner?"

"The odds of Alexis coming _all the way _from Paige's house _just _to eat dinner are astronomical."

"Ahh, so _that's _why you want me to hurry up so badly. We have the loft to ourselves tonight."

"I can assure you, detective, my motives are purely innocent."

She just hummed, slightly, putting the pen to her paper as she did so. The quicker she got started on this witness report, the faster she could go to sleep. Castle himself grabbed a pen and the pad of paper she let him keep in the bottom drawer of her desk. He flipped the spiral notebook to the first clean page he could find and rest the tip of the black-inked Bic to the line.

They went on like this for the better part of an hour before Kate set down her pen, sighing. Whether it was a sigh of defeat or accomplishment, he couldn't tell.

"All done?" he asked her, setting his own pen down.

"For tonight. I will finish in the morning. Just a few more things, it won't take long." She looked up at him. "I'm famished."

Castle took those words as his cue, leaping up to help her with her jacket. It was getting cold, so she had the red pea coat today. God, he loved that one. It slid onto her shoulders easily as she stood, pausing only to tuck the manila file of paperwork into the top drawer of her desk and lock it with a key. He grabbed his own coat, shoving his arms through the holes of the coat and grabbing her purse.

"In a hurry, Castle?" she asked him, an eyebrow arched in amusement.

"I want to get the hell out of here before another body drops," he told her, already ushering her to the elevator. He was behind her now, pushing her along, gently, with two hands on her waist. This put his lips right by her ear. "And so much fun as putting you _in _that coat was, Kate," he paused only to push the call button on the elevator. "I cannot wait to -"

Before he could finish that thought, the elevator door opened with a ding, far sooner than it should have. "That was fast," she murmured, confused. Castle stood up straight, putting way too much space between them but leaving one hand on the small of her back.

A man stepped out of the lift. He was medium height with an angular build that echoed in his jaw and chin, a peppering of gray in his black hair. "Kate Beckett?" the man asked in a curt tone. The couple was completely taken aback, and Kate wasn't sure if it was just her, but she was pretty sure Castle took a protective step nearer to her, his hand on her back pulling her just as much closer to him.

"That's me," she asked, warily. Her eyes fell to the neatly folded piece of blue paper in his hands. She felt a wave of déjà vu overwhelm her. She felt a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. The next words she managed came out surprisingly strong. "And you are?"

"Karl Holbrook, from the District Attorney's office." He handed her the folded blue papers without further preamble. She didn't need to open the papers to know that a court summons was wrapped up in her hands. The next words crashed onto her ears like she imagined Dorothy's house crashed onto oz.

Loudly.

"You have been served."

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_Thank you, for reading, for alerting, favoriting, and most especially for supporting us by reviewing. _  
**Phalangesbyfive **and **Softer**


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